


The Sun Seeks the Hiding Mouse

by OmniGamer



Series: A Rose's Thorns [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, F/F, Getting Back Together, M/M, fixit fic, forgetting lover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27140995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmniGamer/pseuds/OmniGamer
Summary: It's been a few years since Sanguine has forgotten him. It's been a few years since Daemon's tried to forget Sanguine. Fates cross, and there might be some way they can be together… providing that Daemon can successfully get a hiding mouse and her invisible friend together.
Relationships: Meridia (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Sanguine (Elder Scrolls)/Original Male Character(s)
Series: A Rose's Thorns [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1662139
Comments: 15
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's back… They're back. I felt bad for them, so here's a fixit fic for those that want/need a happy ending for Daemon and Sanguine.  
> I have the first few chapters done, so those will be out somewhat weekly until I catch up to what I have.

_ Naked! Very naked!  _ Those thoughts chased Camille back into the hallway, and into the room she should have entered in the first place.

She shut the door tightly behind her and sank to her knees. Her hands clutched at her burning cheeks. 

Camille sat curled like that for a few more minutes, then she sought out her bag. 

Trembling fingers pulled out the rough, metal sphere, and she set it down before her. 

A dull glow emitted from the silver metal. A woman's soft voice filled her head. "What is the matter?" It almost felt like Camille was being hugged by the voice.

She felt ashamed, and large tears fell down her cheeks. "Meri…" she sobbed slightly. "I have been made impure…" She sniffled.

The sphere pulsed soothingly. "Oh, no, Dear. No. You are fine. Absolutely fine." If she closed her eyes, she could see the heavenly being before her. Elegant wings sweeping against the floor, as she kept her eyes on the being's feet. She would be afraid to look up.

Camille rubbed her sleeves rapidly over her face, hoping to erase her shame. "But… But… I saw…" She didn't dare continue. She didn't want to ruin her friend's image of her, even as the image of that… thing was burned into her mind.

"It is alright, Little One."

It was as if a gentle hand patted her head. A mother's kind touch to soothe a child. She sniffed a little. "You are too kind to me, Meri."

The sphere pulsed again, and it took a little while before the elegant voice spoke. "It is the least I can do. But, you mustn't worry yourself about that… that hooligan. I have assured that he will receive just punishment."

Camille felt a little shocked by the proclamation. "But, it was my fault for being so careless… Surely I should-"

"No. You are not the one at fault. You are not at fault."


	2. Chapter 2

The cat's parting words flitted through his mind. "Good luck, my friend. This one hopes you the best." 

Daemon had thought he could have given up. That he could forget and move on, especially after so much heartbreak. 

Over and over.

But he couldn't. If anything, a deep bitterness bloomed in his heart. Angry. Wanting. It couldn't understand why he was forgotten each and every time. It drove him from his tent, from his bedroll, even from the wagon he had rented one time and into the nearest tavern. Hoping, just one more glimpse of the Daedric Prince of Debauchery.

And, Daemon would find him.

The first time, Daemon drank the entire bottle before Sanguine could offer it to his latest victim.

He drank it, and nearly passed out where he stood. It was through sheer stubborn will that he didn't, and escaped back to his camp a bit out of town, the Daedra chasing after him nearly the entire way. 

Daemon woke close to a full day later, feeling incredibly horrid, his head pounding, and quite possibly covered in his own vomit - though he expunged that part in his lapse of judgment.

The second time, he tried to act more rationally, but when the words, 'How would you like to win a staff?' flitted through the bar, something inside of him snapped. 

He stood, and moving swiftly, came up beside him. He gestured to the barman and promptly pushed out an elbow in the process. It struck Sanguine's mug and spilled the offered drink all over the floor. "My apologies," Daemon half-heartedly pretended to slur.

Used to such behavior, the barman simply shook his head. Sanguine, however, had another opinion. "You!" he accused with a pointing finger. "You!"

Daemon slammed a coin down for his earlier drink and slid it towards the barman. To Sanguine, he said, "Me," and then promptly left in a wake of stutters and curses. 

All from the Daedra.

By the third time, possibly the twentieth, he sat quietly, as he had for so many years before. His eyes inspected the crowd and found Sam easily among the tavern's patrons. Sam looked relaxed. At home. Then, he caught sight of Daemon.

Surprise on the Daedra's face turned to a confined fury.

Daemon smirked and drank slowly, his heart finally satisfied with its revenge. With the place it had established in the forgetful Prince's mind.

Sanguine rose and stalked to Daemon's table, his Breton disguise struggling to contain the Daedra. Brown eyes flicked red. Sclera flicked a momentary black. His hands slapped the table, rattling the fork propped on the edge of a finished plate. "What do you want, old man?"

 _Old…?_ Daemon supposed he was. The white at his temple no longer restricted there, instead, spreading further to speckle the top of his head with the occasional strand. 

But overall, time had been kinder to him than he would have thought. His skin was still tight. His hair - though near-white - was still full. He had his strength. And, short of the need of an occasional nap mid-afternoon, time permitting, he had his energy. If Daemon thought about it, he would have suspected it unnatural. That it was perhaps due to the rose-gold… ring-like accessory he constantly wore on a chain around his neck. 

"Nothing," Daemon said eventually, his thoughts quieting temporarily.

"And yet, you pester me…" Sanguine's eyes narrowed.

Daemon slowly set his mug down, reached into the inner lining of his jerkin, and left a few septims on the table with a clatter. Without a word to the Daedra, he stood and made for the door.

His arm was grabbed before he could leave, and his heart grinned.

****

_'I'm… sorry…'_

Daemon lay on his rented bed, staring at the ceiling. Sanguine had laid with him but had left just as easily. Seeing the ring kept around Daemon's neck had brought forth a conflicted expression from the Daedra. Especially, when it was immediately ripped from Daemon's throat and tossed to the room's fireplace. Sanguine shortly after doused the flames with alcohol. 

The fire had leaped up at the nontraditional fuel like eager hounds, but it wasn't what Sanguine had been focused on. Daedric runes rose on the metal and floated into the air, a message unreadable to Daemon, yet very readable to the Daedra - not that Sanguine had shared what the message contained.

After the flames had died, Sanguine fetched the untouched ring from the ashes. Brushed it off, and returned it to Daemon, pushing it into his palm and forcing his fingers tight around it.

 _'I'm… sorry…'_ Sanguine had said, before quickly disappearing.

Daemon's heart felt heavy again. Heavier than it had in a long while.

_What was the Daedra sorry for?_

Daemon wasn't vain enough to think it was because Sanguine left him… forgot him. Not with the expression Sanguine left with. It said too many words and not enough.

 _What had those runes said?_

He didn't recognize any of them and could only remember a few that he scratched down quickly on a piece of parchment before he forgot. He made plans to visit the Mages’ College Library, and failing that… well he wasn’t sure who to turn to without causing further trouble.

****

He traveled north, taking on only small contracts that he could to fund the trip. Food, some thick furs for the growing chill, and wagon fare when his legs grew numb. Each an expenditure he haggled whole-heartedly on to stretch his coin out that much more.

Tired, and poor once more, he eventually made it to Winterhold and its college of mages.

"You cannot pass," said the stern-faced, elven woman. She stood firm, her thick robes allowing her to stand guard for several more hours at the college's entrance.

"I just need to visit the library."

"Are you a mage?" she asked once more. The question an ever-looming thing.

Daemon waved his hands in exasperation. "No! Do I look like a mage?" He gestured to his leather armor, stiff and worn from hard use. Snow had begun to cling to it.

"Well. Then, I can't let you enter." She crossed her arms over her chest to resume her position as a crooked-nosed gargoyle over the bridge to the college. "Permission must be granted, or you must be a mage seeking apprenticeship."

Daemon wanted to curse out the woman and instead stomped the snow from his boots as he shivered in place. "Fine. Can you translate this then?" With stiff, frozen fingers, he reached into his pack and pulled out the rough parchment he had scribbled out the Daedric runes he could remember from the flames.

She squinted at the rough lines. The odd curves and abruptness to each symbol. "That's… Oblivion’s writing…"

"I know. I was hoping someone could translate it for me."

The elf frowned, her high brows knitting together with some force. There was some sort of battle playing out behind her eyes. Eventually, her expression relaxed, her stalwart fixedness easing. "Very well. I suppose there would be no harm in me escorting you for this, and only this task."

Daemon had more than a few things he could have said in response but instead managed a, "Thank you," through chattering teeth.

****

The extensive library Daemon was led through was thankfully warm, though the frosty personality of the librarian made up for it.

Urag gro-Shub, as the elderly orc was introduced, cared little that Daemon was or wasn’t a mage. All that seemed to matter to the orc was whether or not Daemon was going to treat his books carefully, which Daemon had an acute appreciation for.

“Here are a few that might help.” Urag gro-Shub set down another stack piled high. There weren’t any others currently in the library, so Daemon had the orc’s full attention for the afternoon - which was quickly spreading into the evening.

“Thanks…” Daemon said appreciatively, though he was beginning to find that trying to translate the text was more difficult than he could have imagined, taking more time than he thought it would. He wasn’t even sure where he would spend the night yet.

One of the doors to the library suddenly opened a crack, just enough to know that someone had tried to open it. It swung shut again with a slam and then again opened a crack as the person on the other side struggled to push the heavy door open.

Daemon, in need of a break, stood up and made quick steps towards the door. He opened it, and a tiny mouse-like woman suddenly peered up at him with wide, chestnut-colored eyes.

“Eep!” she exclaimed, her body jumping back a bit in a panicked alarm. “I’m sorry! I didn’t think anyone was there!”

Urag gro-Shub didn’t even glance up from his own desk before saying, “You’re letting in the cold air.”

The small woman looked sheepish, then debated on heading in a different direction altogether. Daemon, still holding the door, took a step back. 

Further embarrassed, she glanced back at him, then shuffled past and into the library, her large backpack brushing against his front.

Daemon let the door swing closed, though it thumped louder than it should have as it was pushed by a gust from outside. He returned to his stack of books with an internal sigh.

“Thank-you…” came the woman’s voice, far quieter than previously. “And, umm… I think you translated that part wrong…”

His head came up, and he saw the woman was staring over his scratchings. She was more focused on his papers than on his face, but her cheeks flushed as he continued to watch her.

“It’s ‘my rose blooms for him’, not ‘my pink flowers him for’. You got close though…”

His head fell back to the page. This single line he had struggled for, only to find that he had failed. A sigh sent his head into his hands.

“Are you bothering him, Camille?” asked Urag gro-Shub.

“N-N-No. I don’t think so?” she glanced at Daemon, her doe-like eyes scanning his face for any sign that she had indeed bothered him.

His hands sunk back to the table as he shook his head. “No… It’s fine.” Daemon’s eyes fell to the Daedric text he had attempted to translate. His finger ran along it fondly, and he smiled slightly. The barest pull on one corner of his lips.

_My rose blooms for him…_

He wondered what the rest of it said.

The orc sighed in turn, his breath whistling past his large tusks. “So. Which one did you lose this time, Camille?” he asked in an almost defeated manner. His hand was reaching for the topmost drawer of his writing desk.

The woman, Camille, traced his movement with her eyes as she looked increasingly nervous. “Just, uh… ‘Invocation of Azura’…”

The orc pulled out a book and set it down on the desk with a deliberate thump. “Fortunately, you left it in the courtyard… What else?”

Camille recoiled slightly. “‘The- The Waters of Oblivion’…”

Urag gro-Shub set another book down on top of the first. “On a window ledge in the Hall of Elements… I believe you are missing one more.”

The woman shrank smaller, and in a voice that was almost a squeak she said, “Souls, Black and White’.”

This time Urag gro-Shub doesn’t pull out another book. Instead, he wiped a hand through his grey beard and grabbed a quill. “I’ll have to deduct the finding fee from you again…” He scratched a few lines into a book on his desk, then another location on a square of parchment.

“I… I know.”

“Camille. I’m not mad at you. I’ve seen you handle my books with more care than any of these stuck-up pricks ever care to be. I just wish you could keep track of where you leave them.”

“I’m sorry…”

Daemon stood up suddenly. “If I could…”

Both sets of eyes turned toward him. 

“If I could get the missing book back, could I ask the lady here to translate some things for me?”

The orc leaned back on his chair, the old wood creaking with his shifting weight. “It would save me time trying to convince someone to go after it… But, it would ultimately be up to Camille…”

There came silence from where she stood.

“Well, girl?” Urag gro-Shub demanded.

She startled.

“If you take this man’s offer, I can wave the fee this time.”

Daemon could tell Camille was considering. He recognized the look. He could only imagine how much the orc's finding fee was, and considering how Urag gro-Shub seemed used to her losing books… Daemon suspected Camille spent a lot of money on returning them.

“Well, whatever you two decide, you can’t stay here. I’m an old man, and I need my sleep.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” replied Camille meekly. She was already heading back towards the door. 

To Daemon, she said, “We um… can continue this in my room.” Her face flushed with her words, then Camille rushed to correct her meaning. “I- I mean. I can look over what you need to translate there. That would be it. We can then decide if… um… if it would be worth your time chasing after the book.”

Daemon started gathering his things. “Of course,” he answered.

As his hand touched the first of the recommended tombs, Urag gro-Shub’s voice ran out. “I don’t mind you using those. But, they don’t leave my library.” With a sinking heart, Daemon left the books.

“It’s fine,” Camille felt obligated to assure him in a whisper. “I have my own. I had to buy my own copies when I started losing some of them.”

Daemon suspected it wasn’t just some she had lost. All or most seemed more appropriate with the evidence he had been presented.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but I promise the next one is longer.

The woman's room was small, almost to the point Daemon thought it was a linen cupboard.

The bed, handmade to fit the space, was half the size of a regular single. The only other piece of furniture was a table, that judging from the repeated scratches on the floor was dragged towards the bed when it was being used.

Daemon stood in the doorway, wondering if he would even fit in the space alongside the stacks of precarious books and loose papers. The thought occurred to him that from the sight of the room in comparison to the few they passed to get here, he had a slight suspicion that this person was being bullied.

"It's umm… a little tight, but you should be able to squeeze in.” 

A part of Daemon doubted her words, but he stepped inside anyway.

She made room for him, or at least tried to, climbing over the foot of the bed to sidle up to the table. Before the door closed behind him fully. She managed to light a candle, granting some light to the encroaching darkness.

"So… um…" She pressed her fingers together nervously. "What did you want me to uh… trans- translate for you?"

Daemon pulled out his scribbled writings. "This. Preferably."

The woman took up the page, and her eyes danced across its surface as she took in its contents. Her brow scrunched a few times. Pressing together repeatedly as she mouthed something inaudible. "I can make out bits… namely what you had deciphered. I'm afraid though that much of this is… um…" She seemed worried about her next words. As if she could somehow offend Daemon by saying them.

"Please continue," he encouraged in a tone he hoped was friendly. Daemon was almost instantly reminded how Sam would tease him for coming off as so serious, even when Daemon wasn't trying to be.

She swallowed heavily. "It's ummm… rather uneligible. Some of these runes don't exist… or seem to have been copied wrong. Would you happen to have the original source, or…?"

Daemon took up the single candle she had lit and pulled it towards himself. He then pulled out the small flask of ale set at his side, his hand fishing beneath his tunic to pull out the rose-gold ring. His thumb stroked over it lightly before he held that over the small flame.

He could tell Camille wanted to say something, possibly ask what he was about to do, but she kept quiet.

Frankly, Daemon wasn't quite sure himself.  _ Why was he still hoping, why was he chasing after a dream? _ He let the ale spill over the edge of the ring, and catch the small flame. His hand, fortunately, protected by his gloves, felt nothing as the fire jumped up hungrily. And, as before, the Daedric letters rose from the metal's surface to swim and dance in the air for a short while.

Daemon found himself still staring after the runes disappeared as if he could somehow catch their meaning in the short minute they were there. Eventually, he set the ring on the table, and with great hesitance, pushed it towards Camille. “Would this suffice?” It took another bout of effort to lift his fingers from the ring’s cool metal, something Daemon had kept close these past years.

The woman stared at the ring, the glint of her eyes suggesting equal measures of fascination and bewilderment. She suddenly slapped her hands down on the table and stood, surprising both Daemon and herself. “Sorry,” she started, but quickly continued. “But, where did you get that? That enchantment is fascinating.”

“It’s rather complicated…” Daemon said almost dismissively. He didn’t add anything more. He felt no need to.

“Oh…” Camille seemed a little disheartened, her earlier enthusiasm dried up.

“Could you translate it for me?”

“You would still want me to?”

His brow furrowed. “Had I suggested I didn’t want you to?”

She paused, then looked shyly at the table. Her fingers hovered over the ring, almost afraid to touch it. “You would trust me with this?” 

“I want to find out what it says.” Daemon left out the part where he was certain he needed to know what sort of message Sam had left him. “It would take me too long to figure it out myself, and you seem rather apt. Not to mention that we find ourselves in a mutually beneficial situation.”

Her head bobbed slowly up and down. “We… do…”

Daemon felt relieved, but couldn't openly express himself - not even to ease the stiff tension of his shoulders. Instead, he asked, "When could you have this done?"

"A- A week," she stuttered. "If you think that would take too long…"

"A week should be fine. I still have to get your book."

"Ah. Yes…" Camille grew meek at that. "Sorry."

Daemon straightened from the table. "There is no need to be sorry…" His eyes continued on the rose-gold ring for a few more seconds before he finally pried them away and headed back out the door. "I will be back when I can. I shall stop by the library to ask where I should start looking."

"Already?"

He gripped the doorway as he turned his head back over his shoulder. "I sleep better on the road."

"Oh. If you're sure."

Daemon couldn't tell if the woman was concerned or relieved. Concerned likely for his well being, relieved as she considered where he might have to sleep. Daemon couldn't see both of them sharing her room. "I'm sure," he said. His hand hesitated on the door handle as he wasn't sure if the woman preferred it open or closed. He left it open then headed back to the library to see if he could catch the librarian before he went to sleep.

****

"Come in," came the familiar grumpy voice. "I suspected you wouldn't be long."

Daemon stepped inside. "Sorry to bother you so late." It was darker than earlier, and not just because of the set sun. Only one candle was currently lit, the others had long been extinguished. 

Urag gro-Shub grunted but didn't say anything to dismiss Daemon's apology. 

“Well…” the old Orc said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s up to you if you want to do this or not. My trace spell says it’s somewhere near Mount Kilkreath. What Camille was doing there, I’ll never know. Give me your map, I’ll mark it for you.”

Wordlessly, Daemon passed his map over, and Urag gro-Shub rolled out the worn parchment. He scratched a crude x into its surface with a piece of charcoal - something that Daemon could rub off with some effort later, if needed - and passed it back.

"Oh, and take this." The orc passed another slip of paper. "It's written permission to enter the college. You'll have an easier time getting back in here with it."

It hadn't actually occurred to Daemon that he'd have difficulty returning. Considering how long it took the first time, he gratefully accepted the paper slip. "Thanks."

"Care for a drink before you head out? The stiffs around here can't hold their liquor."

Daemon hesitated. The request felt like it came out of nowhere. "Sure."


	4. Chapter 4

Daemon found the book, though not in the gloom of the temple as he thought he would have to. It lay at the foot of the temple's worship, the winged figure holding her hands toward the sky.

He approached, only to stop as a sudden light fell upon him.

The light was nearly blinding as it pierced him, anchoring Daemon’s feet.

“Mortal!” a woman’s voice commanded. “Heed my words!”

Daemon raised a hand to shield his eyes. He squinted into the white, attempting and failing to discern the speaker’s shadow within.

“A pestilence plagues my temple. The Necromancer Malkoran has unleashed undead within its hallowed halls. In exchange for this… book, I beseech you, valiant warrior, to cleanse those within."

There was a comment somewhere in the back of Daemon's mind that the book wasn't exactly the Daedra's to be bargaining with, but under the bright enchantment, he held his tongue. It would be all too easy for him to be smited by the immortal at the moment.

“What do you say to this, Mortal?”

In Daemon’s mind, there was no choice. He was a man of his word, and he would bring the book back. It just so happened that there was even more to that task than he had anticipated.

“I accept.”

“Excellent. Destroy the defiler and restore the peace of my temple. You shall guide my light to rid it of those wretched undead for good.”

Daemon was about to ask how the Daedra was to accomplish that at night when a beam streamed down from the statue’s hands and into the temple below.

“As simple as that?”

“Simple. Nay. A challenge to even the most righteous of heart…”

The light faded from around Daemon, save for the single thin beam flooding into the hole in the temple roof. He was released and the Daedra’s presence retreated. With knees quivering, Daemon stumbled slightly. He hadn’t realized just how much pressure was being put on him to keep him in place.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and then headed back down the stairs towards the temple entrance.

Daemon had some work to do.

* * *

Meridia had nothing against the mortal. In fact, she liked him quite well. A strong, noble soul. But, she had to know. She had to know if she could entrust her adorable Camille to this… man - especially considering Sanguine's scent still clinging to him. 

_Really now… Had Sanguine doused the mortal in venom?_

She wouldn't put such a disgusting thing past the debauched Daedric Prince. Thankfully the stench had lessened with time, though not yet enough for Meridia's delicate sensibilities.

The Mortal’s coming was inevitable, so she had contracted a few lesser Daedra to test him. 

_If he failed… well, Mephala’s Seducers would enjoy the snack._

* * *

“Oh? Who do we have here?”

Daemon peered into the darkness. So far he had only been encountering the undead. To find another living soul… He reconsidered as a set of three glowing eyes peered back at him.

"You're cute," came a voice from one of the other sets of eyes.

"Hmm… a little thin," from another. "But at least a little more… lively than the other dry fucks around here."

He was having a hard time pinning down the voices. Young, old. Female to male and even back again. Even their shadows had a hard time finding an exact shape. Large breasts and generous hips. Each slowly shifting smaller, lither… more male and less female. Each becoming dangerously familiar.

Daemon furrowed his brow, his fingers wrapped tight around his dagger. His mind supplied 'Daedra', but it was less able to discern whether to consider them friend or foe.

"You poor thing," they said. "So, lonely. When was the last time you felt another's touch?"

Suddenly, he felt something slip up his back. _A hand?_ Daemon whirled on it, blade at the ready to pierce. His wrist was grabbed, his dagger's momentum halting with it.

"There's no need for that… Babe…"

Daemon's shock almost caused him to lose his grip. Then he realized the number of eyes hadn't changed, imposter Sam included. "You're not real," he hissed at it, baring his teeth in a snarl.

"Not real?" The fake raised Daemon's wrist higher to force the man to press closer. "I'm real enough to have a little fun."

The man wasn't about to tolerate being messed with. He swung his free fist, though that too was caught, this time by one of the others.

The newest also shared Sam's appearance, soft, curving tattoos glowing in the gloom. The second imposter's arms were wrapped around Daemon's. "So violent today. Can't we just enjoy ourselves?"

"Not with any of you." He glowered, his gaze turning murderous. Daemon felt… defiled, these Daedra exploiting something he held… dear.

"But, you would if Lord Sanguine were actually here?" The trio seemed amused by the prospect. "Another forgotten champion. Infatuated with their master. How cute."

His struggles momentarily lost their strength.

"Well, don't feel too bad. Everyone knows that Prince cursed himself with forgetfulness."

"Why?" The question snuck past Daemon's guarded tongue. Perhaps out of desperation for a reason.

"Ah ahh," scolded the now third imposter. "Answers aren't free, Little Morsel."

He growled, his curiosity beginning to overpower his common sense. "What do you want?"

Each Daedra exchanged a predatory look.

"We're Seducers," said one of the Sam copies.

"And, we… seduce," said another, fingers gripping his wrist tight as its other hand stroked the side of his face. “Not a very clever name for us. But, it works.”

“Just don’t mistake us for Sheogorath’s.”

His golden eyes continued their unwavering glare.

"Someone has contracted us to do what we do best, and it would tarnish our reputation if you deny us so cruelly."

"Who?" Daemon barked out.

"Another question… But, alas we cannot offer the name of our contractor."

"It would go against the terms of our deal." The one at his back wrapped hands around his middle. Hands that wandered ever so much lower as they continued talking.

"Speaking of deals, Little Morsel… You were wanting to know why Lord Sanguine cursed himself…?"

Daemon let his silence answer for him, for whatever answer these Daedra devised for him.

Three gleaming, sharp smiles beamed at him. “We have a deal for you, Little Morsel. Lay with us in the heat of your passion, and we will divulge what we know of Lord Sanguine’s forgetfulness.”

“Would that be all?”

The one on his arm licked a stripe up his neck. “It wouldn’t have to be. You could still offer up your soul. There would be so much more we could do with that than just answer teensy questions…”

He instinctively tried to shake off the Daedras' touch, though their hold was a little too tight for any success.

“So, Little Morsel. Do we have a deal?”

“I sleep with you, and you’ll answer my question? What about after? Will you leave me alone?”

The fake Sam still holding his wrist above his head, tilted Daemon’s head back with a clawed finger under his chin. It leaned in closer, lips brushing lips briefly. “You will have to sleep with us… And, it depends.”

“Depends?”

The Daedra draped on his back squeezed his crotch slightly. It licked its lips, a blood-red, forked tongue darting across copper skin. “Depends on how satisfied you leave us. We might have to come back for more.” 

They were leaving it up to Daemon to determine whether they'd follow him if he… performed well or badly.

"It doesn't sound like I have much of a choice."

"Oh, you have every choice," whispered one.

Another had its hands undoing the first buckle of his armor. "Just say 'no', and we'll stop…"

"Easy as that?"

"Easy as that," the trio agreed. "But, you don't get your answer. It'll only be fair of course."

Daemon made an indifferent noise.

"What do you say… Babe?"

The familiarity drew a growl from his throat and an amused round of laughs from the Daedra.

"'Yes'. Or, 'no'," one whispered against his lips, a leg tangling between his. "But, you're going to have to say something, or we'll eat you anyway…"

They waited for him to respond, but Daemon could tell they wouldn’t wait forever. “I want an answer.”

“And, you’ll get it,” answered the one on his arm as the fake Sam nipped at his ear. “Just. Say. Yes.”

“I’ll make a deal with one of you. I only need one answer.”

The fake Sam trio was taken aback slightly. They looked at each other, a sort of possessive competition brewing between their exchanged gazes.

The one on his back dragged him away first. “That’s fine,” the Daedra grinned.

“Wait a second,” shouted both of the others.

"Too late," laughed the one still clutching Daemon tightly. "Go deal with the dry bones. I get the live one."

"You bastard!"

"Traitor!"

"Save it for later you two… Maybe I'll give you the leftovers…"

There was a slight whir and a breeze touching him, and Daemon craned his neck around to see a portal. He had seconds to register the silver hue of it before he was dragged through.

He landed roughly, though the feathered mattress broke the worst of his fall. 

Laughter followed from above. "Comfortable? It's harpy down. Took one feather from each one I ate," the Daedra bragged - not that Daemon could currently see the Daedra that had… claimed him.

"That must have been some meal," Daemon replied, sounding only vaguely interested.

The voice hummed, its tone shifting from Sam's recognizable timbre to something else entirely. "A snack at most… our main sustenance comes from something more invigorating…"

"Why are you hiding now? Could it be a Seducer has gotten cold feet?"

Another amused laugh. "Not quite. I'm trying to figure out what shape to wear. We don't have our own you know. Have to borrow someone else's… something else's."

"And, what was wrong with what you looked like earlier?"

"Nothing, except you would resist me. His form hurts you as much as it brings you pleasure… The others only focused on that. It would have made for a ruined meal."

"How considerate."

The Daedra didn't respond to Daemon's comment, only a shadow flicked from among the stone columns circling the room. A flash of golden hair, of elven ears…

Daemon shut his eyes tight.

"Not that one either, hmmm?" The tone was mocking this time. "Could you give me a hint then? I want you to enjoy this after all…"

Daemon slowly opened his eyes again to the shadows.

"What is your type?"

This time, there was no subtlety as the Daedra poked into his thoughts, rifling through his consciousness.

"Slender… Tall… Is it the pointed ears that get you off?" The Daedra chuckled lightly to itself as it seemed to circle the small space, the tiny pocket of wherever they were. "Something… exotic?"

Midnight-blue skin pulled from the shadows, clothed only by a translucent robe of silver moonlight. Brilliant white tattoos marked the creature's sinewy chest and face, accenting the bright blue of its - currently his - eyes. Stubby onyx horns decorated the Daedra's temples and a few jutted from along his sharp jawline.

A Xivilai, if Daemon could remember his brief introduction to recorded Daedra.

"Will this form do?" The Daedra asked coyly. "I tried to keep your previous tastes in mind without getting too familiar…"

Daemon inched backward on the mattress. Whatever guise the Daedra took couldn't quite erase that predatory gaze from its eyes.

The current Xivilai made quick powerful strides to Daemon’s side. He reached out, his head tilting to the side as long, thick dreads rolled over the Xivilai’s shoulder. “You’re hesitant…”

“I don’t trust you.”

“What does trust have to do with this?” Ice-blue eyes gleamed with a wild light, rough hands grabbed Daemon’s shoulders tightly, pressing faint imprints into the pauldrons of his leather armor.

Daemon stared at the powerful hands, then back at the Daedra. "Don't wreck my armor."

The grip on his shoulders hesitated, then tightened. "And, if I do?"

"I'll make new armor with your heart." Daemon pressed his dagger against the bare chest of the Xivilai.

"You can't hurt me with that…" the Seducer said, though it wasn't with strong confidence.

"Don't. Wreck. My. Armor," Daemon repeated with extra punctuation.

"As you wish… Little Morsel." With annoyed care, the Xivilai undid buckle after buckle. He stole a kiss after each one, like some dog stealing treats after behaving. 

Daemon was surprised that some vigorous tail didn't emerge to start wagging.

The Daedra seemed to hear that thought. "Who says there isn't one? You have strange tastes after all, Little Morsel."

"You keep calling me that…" Daemon complained as his chest plate was tossed aside. He watched as the leather and metal strips fell somewhere dark and unknown.

"And, you keep thinking, Daedra… Xivilai… Seducer." Each word was followed by a nip against Daemon's shoulder, working across his collar bone. The Daedra's thumbs kneaded into his pectorals and sides. "We both have names. Care to exchange them, _Little Morsel?_ "

"Another deal?"

"A small one this time. You share your name, and I'll share mine."

"What's in it for you? Nothing is ever simple with your kind."

The Daedra pushed Daemon back into the mattress, feathers puffing up around them as he fell into it.

"Power. Every contract I fulfill gives me just that much more. Now, your name, Little Morsel." 

Daemon pondered the Daedra's words, his brow furrowing slightly. It was clear the Daedra would persist in reminding him, Daemon was nothing more than food. 

_He was fine with that, he supposed._

"But, I'm not…"

His eyes snapped down to the Daedra. "Stay out of my head."

A steady, blue gaze peered up at him as the ties of his breeches were undone. "Your name…" The Daedra insisted with a smirk. "And, I'll give you mine. If you use it instead of 'Daedra'… I'll stay out of your head. For today."

"I should assume you'll keep calling me 'Little Morsel'?"

The Daedra chuckled as he pulled Daemon's cock free from its cloth confines. "Is that what you prefer, _Daemon?_ "

Daemon growled, but with the skillful hand begging to pump up and down his length, it was hard to muster the effective deep tone. "You already know it."

"Of course. I'm in your head."

A sharp exhale was forced from Daemon's lips as he had to suddenly clench his teeth to stop anything more. With effort, Daemon managed a steady, "Then, why do you need to hear it again?"

"For our deal…" The Daedra's thumb pressed against Daemon's slit, effectively stoppering the slow dribble of precum.

Daemon sighed and gave the Daedra a withering glare, garnering a chuckle. “It’s Dae-” 

The Daedra’s mouth closed over Daemon’s right nipple, his sharp teeth nipping at the delicate nub. “Go on,” urged the smug Xivilai.

“Daemon,” Daemon finished quickly.

“I’m Ruo Venas.” The Da- Ruo Venas brought his sticky fingers to his lips, licking Daemon's precum off of the slender digits. "Nice to meet you."

Ruo Venas bent back over Daemon to kiss him, to share the taste of himself as the Xivilai's tongue forced its way into his mouth. It was powerful, commanding. It dominated his pallet to steal his breath.

Ruo Venas left him gasping, his lungs in desperate desire for air. And, he had only just started. The Xivilai's hand cupped Daemon and squeezed, his fingers teasing the sensitive flesh behind his balls. "Are you a topping man, Daemon?"

"Weren't you in my head?" 

Drawing stuttering gasps, Daemon's balls were gently fondled. Before his opened pants were worked down his hips. "I was. But, I saw both positions. What are you feeling right now?"

“I… I just want this over.”

“You say that, but I can see you’re enjoying yourself…” There was no subtlety in the way Ruo Venas’ gaze danced over his swollen member. “Do you want to be in me?” His fingers dipped lower, no longer teasing Daemon’s balls, but tracing the ring of Daemon’s hole. “Do you want me in you?”

Daemon could feel the light press against his opening. A gentle nudge that wanted to go deeper. To truly penetrate him. "Is this finally over when you cum or I cum?"

"Both would be preferable."

"That isn't an answer."

"Neither was your question," quipped Ruo Venas. The Seducer was amused. For some reason, Daemon seemed to fascinate him. 

Considering Sam's masochistic tendencies for verbal abuse, Daemon almost started thinking it was a Daedra thing.

"Don't think about someone else… Babe," the Xivilai cooed. "We can also get terribly jealous."

Daemon frowned. "I thought you weren't supposed to be in my head?" 

"I don't need to be, to tell you are thinking about someone else. It's written on that handsome face of yours."

"I'll be in you," Daemon answered quickly.

Ruo Venas had no qualms with Daemon's decision. His finger retreated from Daemon's hole, instead circling around Daemon's cock once before moving towards his own. "You strike me as a lube type. Too caring to break me raw…"

Daemon decided it was time to take some initiative. "Oh, I could still break you," he promised.

"I hope so, Daemon."

He was already solid, his length a heavy, hot weight in his hand. 

Ruo Venas helped him to his entrance, a warm fluid dripping from its ring of muscle. 

It eased Daemon's entry, as Ruo Venas devoured him to the hilt. 

Hot. Tight.

Ruo Venas' insides squeezed him, milked him. Daemon choked on air, his fingers curling hard into the Seducer's sides.

"Good boy," cooed… Ruo Venas condescending as he stroked rough fingers through Daemon's hair. Those fingers eventually tightened, yanking Daemon's head back to bare his throat.

Daemon let out a sharp breath as Ruo Venas clamped down on his other, sending some sort of invitation for the Xivilai's tongue. It thrust back into his mouth, to explore the back of his throat as a hand trailed up and down his spine. It trailed lower to cup Daemon’s hip, to encourage him to buck up into the Xivilai’s heat.

It was a reminder of Daemon's unspoken promise to break Ruo Venas.

Daemon took initiative. As his mouth was being liberally fucked by the Seducer's long and eager tongue, Daemon decided to return the same to Ruo Venas' lower half. 

Each lick to his upper pallet earned a hard, rocking thrust, pressing Ruo Venas deep into the mattress that sprang back on Daemon's every temporary retreat.

The Seducer eventually broke their kiss with a delighted squeal. His claws raked into Daemon's sweaty back, likely drawing ragged, red lines in the process. 

"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Ruo Venas cried on every motion of Daemon's hips pounding his length deeper into the Seducer's core. "You do… mmgggh… know how to please!"

Daemon could feel himself growing closer to his climax, but he tried to maintain a cool head. The last thing he wanted was Ruo Venas to continue riding him after he was spent.

The Seducer grinned, rising up again to nip at Daemon's ear, leaving it bruised and throbbing from abuse. All too much echoing the abuse of his cock.

Daemon pulled out, encouraging Ruo Venas to his stomach. He was a little shocked to find that Ruo Venas had a tail. Something short and stubby. Like a dog's docked tail, barely half the length of his thumb.

Daemon's surprise must have been noticeable. That, or he was just that impatient to get Daemon's other back inside him. "Like it?" The Seducer's stump of a tail gave a curt flick back and forth.

Drawn to the wiggly stub he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger, earning a purposefully lewd moan. 

Daemon immediately let it go again.

“Such a tease,” goaded Ruo Venas. “But we both know what I really want…” The Seducer reared back against Daemon, his ass pressing hard to Daemon’s length.

Daemon obliged the hungry Xivilai, stuffing the eager hole with his girth, feeling Ruo Venas’ insides clamping down on him again. 

He hissed through his teeth as his hands came up to grip Ruo Venas' sides. He bent around the Seducer, pulling back slightly, then driving back in to repeat the motions.

If it was even possible, Ruo Venas squeezed on him tighter. Gripping, milking. A skilled massaging of his length as he thrust in and out. In and out. 

Sweat formed a single bead at the base of his neck, it pooled then slid down his back, following the curve of his spine before it dripped off of his body. Another formed at his temple, curved around his cheek before dropping off his chin. Another drop and another. His body grew slick with his sweat, with his effort, with his pleasure.

Ruo Venas gasped beneath him. The Xivilai gasped, pressing into him. Needy. Wanting. Desiring Daemon’s climax as much as his own release.

Two bodies became one, a twin desire of pleasure fueling their breath and motions. Then, it ceased. A tight feeling rose in Daemon’s belly, squeezing him, crushing his insides. His breathing grew discordant to the established rhythm, his motions stuttering to a halt.

He released into the heat of the Seducer who drank him greedily.

"That's it…" Ruo Venas breathed, pulling forward to allow Daemon to slip free from him.

Daemon felt his limbs weaken as he fell back into the mattress.

Ruo Venas fell in beside him. A leg rising to twine with his in some mock motion of intimacy. "That was a marvelous meal you served me, Daemon."

Daemon's chest was still heaving from his orgasm, his heart just barely beginning to slow down. "So… my question."

"Phrase it for me again, Daemon. And, do try to be careful. That lay only gave you the one… though I wouldn't be averse to bartering for more."

"Why… Why did Sanguine, Daedric Prince of Debauchery, curse himself with forgetfulness?" Daemon felt hesitant. He couldn't think of any other way to phrase the question, but he knew there would be several ways to short him a proper answer. Daemon could only put his hopes on the Seducer's… generosity - as limited as it would likely be.

"Because he could."

Daemon's gaze narrowed. He expected as much, but he didn't realize how disappointed-

With a kiss stolen from Daemon's lips, Ruo Venas continued. "Because he almost fell in love with one of his champions once. Could you imagine?" Ruo Venas sat up with a laugh. He pressed a palm possessively down on Daemon's chest. "Lord Sanguine, in love. With a mere mortal. It must have been too mortifying for him, so he forgets every single champion now."

Daemon felt his own heart skip. 

_Sam had fallen in love… with someone before him._

"Who-"

"Ah ah," tutted the Seducer, grinning as his hand stroked soft circles over Daemon's heart. "I answered one question. And, quite generously if I may say so. Would you want to do more? Maybe let me take your heart? Your soul?"

"You did." Daemon batted the hand off his chest and sat up. His eyes scanned the area for his gear, and he found his clothes not too far away. "But, we're done."

Ruo Venas offered an exaggerated pout and teased a hand through his long dreads to pull them back over his shoulder. "I like you, Daemon. Call me again if you ever get bored chasing after your lost cause."

"No thanks," he responded coldly. A portal yawned open for him as he picked up what remained of his pants and tugged them on. He made quick work of getting his armor in place in the moment of peace he had before he returned.

Disappearing back to the shadows as its form dissolved, the Daedra laughed. Daemon ignored it as he entered the portal, leaving the pocket realm behind him.

****

The remaining Seducers weren't there when Daemon returned, though signs of a rather extreme… battle-scarred some of the temple walls.

He hoped it wouldn't affect his bargain with Meridia.


	5. Chapter 5

"Here," was all Daemon offered as he set the book down at the old Orc's desk.

Urag gro-Shub looked up, almost surprised to see Daemon back, almost surprised to see the book returned. "Thanks. I'm surprised you found it, and so quickly." An odd reaction considering the librarian had sent him on the quest in the first place. 

_ Had he not been expected to succeed? _

The librarian dragged the book to the center of his desk, flipped it open to check the condition of its pages, then set it on a stack of books to be sorted and put away. Urag gro-Shub made a mark on a piece of parchment. 

"Well, I'm glad you made it there and back in one piece. I'll let Camille know you've retrieved the book. She's been in and out of the library for the last week or so. Now, I suspect it was to translate that thing for you."

Daemon hummed. It would be likely, even if Camille had no reason to trust that Daemon would return. He wondered if the mage just had that much free time on her hands. 

"Thank you." He let out a sigh he didn't know he had been holding. One length of his journey was already complete, and it hadn't yet sunk in that there would be more left.

His eyes closed for a second before he straightened and turned to leave.

The Orc's words caught him before he left fully. "I'll send her down to the inn. I can assume that's where you're staying?"

"I can meet her there." Daemon didn't confirm the Orc's words, nor could he truthfully. He was staying on the outskirts of Winterhold, his fur-lined tent warm enough with the autumn snow. 

If Urag Gro-shub noticed Daemon's wording, he didn't care enough to say anything about it.

****

Sam wasn't in the tavern when he entered. Daemon supposed, in this instance, that it was a good thing. One less variable he had to deal with… for now.

He ordered a baked potato, some sort of grey-brown gravy drizzled over the top of it, along with a few slices of roast horker meat. A mug of warmed goat's milk accompanied the meal.

The door was blasted open by the wind, several patrons turning in their chairs until the door was closed and re-latched. 

"Sorry…" mumbled the hooded visitor, the attention far too much for the small mage.

Daemon ordered another mug of warm milk for Camille before gesturing her over. 

She slid into the barstool, her cherry red nose just barely poking out of her pile of furs. 

Camille hesitated but eventually accepted the drink when Daemon pushed it to her. She drank readily, accepting the new warmth in her belly.

"I- I managed to finish," she stuttered. "I really appreciate you letting me translate it for you. I don't get the opportunity to work directly with source material often. Even if it was…" Her face turns far redder than the frost had nipped it.

Daemon rubbed a finger over his nose. It wouldn't have been obvious what the rose-gold ring was, but it would have been hard to ignore if it was ever pointed out, and it apparently had been.

He felt obligated to apologize, but didn't. It would likely just make things worse. Instead, he drew up another mouthful of food, enjoying the taste of a freshly cooked meal on his tongue after days of cold rations.

As if prompted by his silence, Camille's gloved fingers dug into the satchel on her side. "Well, here is the translation. I'm a bit surprised by its contents though…" She looked even more shy than usual, her eyes suddenly darting around as if someone might overhear. Not assured even by the lack of disinterest from the other patrons, she whispered a few words to summon some sort of array around them.

Daemon's confusion must have been apparent.

"A minor illusion spell. We won't be overheard this way."

Daemon only nodded, encouraging her to continue.

"Well… It seems like the Daedric Prince Sanguine wrote that… er, letter…"

Her revelation wasn't surprising. Daemon had already known that much.

"But, um… I suppose you already knew that considering… Anyway!" she started energetically, trying to move away from the topic of her fluster. "It was more of the contents that were surprising. Considering that Sanguine was its author, it was… rather romantic."

Daemon stopped chewing and set his fork down. Camille had his full attention now. "Sam- Sanguine confessed?" he just about blurted out, feeling a sort of giddy excitement he hadn't felt in years.

She hummed and haad as she played with the transcription in her hand. Camille realized the abuse she was inflicting on the scroll of parchment and handed it over to Daemon. He tucked it into his belt without reading it. There would be time later. "Well… ah… confess may be a strong word for him. He's interested at least… very interested in someone named 'Dae'."

Daemon would have been lying if he said his heart hadn't just lodged itself into his throat. He was glad had had momentarily stopped eating or he would have choked. "Romantic. Interested…" he stalled on saying the words he needed next. His fist clenched around his mug of milk. "Could it be that Sanguine… loved this man?"

Camille stared at him blankly, like she could not believe someone didn't know the answer to his question. She shook her head. "The Daedric Prince Sanguine can't love. It goes against his… ummm… Well, I suppose someone like that wouldn't really have principals… I suppose being… mor- er immortal enemies with Lady Mara may also have something to do with it… Or, so I've been told- I mean, read. I- I- read. A lot. About Daedra." She began searching through her bag again, this time pulling out the rose-gold ring and setting it on the table. "You will probably want this back."

Daemon hummed a short acknowledgment, disappointment oozing slightly into his bones. "Thank you," he said flatly. 

"Not- Not at all. I was happy to look at your…" Looking at the large ring again, she paused. Her face flushed and she pushed it back across the table to him with a spoon picked up from the bartop. "Ring…"

A little embarrassed himself with the mentioned artifact out in the open, Daemon readily looped it back onto its chain and disappeared it beneath his armor.

_ Leave it to Sam to cause a scene without even directly being there… _

He found himself patting his chest… indirectly patting the ring. It felt good to have it back around his throat again. Its constant weight, a balm to his constant hesitance. Daemon had to keep reminding himself why he was doing this.

"Umm… I just realized. I… haven't gotten your name through all of this… nor have I umm… introduced myself- properly I mean." She held out her hand to shake. "I'm Camille… though you probably already knew that."

Daemon shook her hand. They had just concluded business after all. "Daemon."

She mouthed a little 'o', not quite taking her hand back as she realized something.

He didn't feel obligated to answer her questioning stare. He didn't want to answer, instead turning his attention back to his food.

The illusion magic dissipated, a sort of bluish haze falling from eye level to rest at his feet before disappearing. There wasn't a need to keep it up considering everything had been exchanged and their conversation concluded.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Daemon."

He nodded and bumped her half-drunk milk back to her.

She took it as some form of acceptance to her continued presence, though Daemon was really just not wanting to see his coin go to waste.

Oblivious to Daemon's thoughts, Camille held the mug between both her hands, almost smiling at the milk within. "You don't talk much, do you?"

Already with a mouthful of food, Daemon wasn't about the answer. He chewed, the horker meat a little too gristly to swallow quickly.

Camille only laughed, as if his continued silence answered for him. "You don't mind listening though…" she began rambling, her eyes darting between his face and her mug. "I… I think so anyway. You haven't told me otherwise…"

Again, Daemon kept chewing, this time bringing up a bit of potato to his lips.

The mage didn't drink her milk. She only kept staring at it fondly. Like a gift, though it didn't cost Daemon much more than a septim.

He wondered just how lonely she actually was.

Daemon set his fork down on the lip of the plate and took a good swig of his warm goat's milk. He swallowed. "So, you read. A lot about…"

Not expecting Daemon to say anything, or perhaps wanting him not to mention the topic of her studies, Camille jumped in her chair quickly spouting, "Yes! It's ah, my spe- specialty. Though it doesn't seem to be very popular around here. Most people would rather have a healer and a battle mage around as a bodyguard. Someone who does a bit more… reading tends to only get the odd jobs."

"Or the ones that don't pay as well…"

Camille looked at him quizzically. "Oh, no. Umm… I get paid… enough. It's just that the jobs are odd. Peculiar. Not erm… the odd job here and there. I suppose my wording was a bit off."

Daemon nodded, almost feeling a little jealous. He was very much still stuck on 'the odd job here and there'. It got him by, but he could do with earning more if he wanted to ever save for a permanent home and not drifting as he has been.

Feeling more relaxed, Camille ordered herself a boiled creme treat. The baked good came on a plate and was set down in front of the mage. Fresh creme was poured on top of it in front of them.

Camille happily bit into the treat, looking very much like a munching mouse.

"But, um… I guess… Do you usually… retrieve books."

"Sometimes."

"Ah." She took a few more nibbles. "What do you do normally?"

"Odd jobs."

Camille nodded, a small smile growing on her face. "I guess that makes us a pair." She giggled slightly, but not in a flirtatious way. Somehow she was relaxing, trusting Daemon in a way that he suspected she wasn't used to. 

He glanced over to her plate and saw it was empty. Nearly without thinking he sliced off some of the meat and slid it in front of her. 

Not making eye contact with Camille, Daemon continued eating as she stared. "You looked hungry," he said simply, taking another sip of his milk. "That pastry didn't last five minutes."

Camille's face flushed. "I rushed over here without eating first. I wanted to pay you back as soon as I heard you returned with the book."

"You didn't have to."

She hesitantly picked up the edge of the horker slice with her fingers. "I know. But, you really seemed like you wanted that translated as soon as possible…" 

He caught her look from the corner of his eye. She had mouthed his name but decided against saying it. They both now knew exactly who 'Dae' was from Sam's letter. 

"I just hope I could be of some assistance. Your situation seems complicated…" She gave him a look of pity, one that he very much didn't want.

"Something like that," he said dismissively, saying nothing more of the topic as he made ample show of stuffing his mouth with food.

Turning her gaze away, Camille bit a chunk off of her gifted meat with her teeth and chewed timidly. 

The pair ate and drank in silence. Camille pushed away from the bar first. "I should be heading back. It'll just be getting colder the later it gets."

Daemon nodded.

Somehow, the way her furs tilted down around her face, made it seem that she was disappointed at herself for his response.

"Can you translate other scripts beyond Daedric?"

The reassembled pile of furs raised up towards him, Camille's eyes almost beaming. "I know a few. Aldmeris. Dwemeris… Falmer… my Akaviri is a little rusty…"

Humming to himself, Daemon appeared to have disappeared briefly in thought. "I'll likely be by again then. Should I have something else that needs translating." Daemon did consider it the truth. Camille had proven herself at least a quick translator, and he suspected she knew far more than just the languages she listed off on her fingers. It could prove useful to know someone like that in his line of work.

"Of course!" Camille said a tad too loudly. She hastily escaped the inn after her outburst, though she was in a notably better mood than a few moments earlier.

He rubbed his finger across his nose and returned to his half-eaten meal.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the bit of a delay. Here is the next chapter. ^^

Daemon returned to the room he had rented on short notice - perhaps due to some impulse of insanity to confront Sam about the contents of his… letter.

He sat in the room's chair, his legs propped up on the small table beside. The room was lit by a single candle, and he unscrolled the parchment to read its words once more.

As much as it had been a romantically inclined letter, its contents felt all too much like a goodbye. A farewell to a love that hadn't even had the chance to bloom.

He sighed heavily as he set the letter facedown on the table and smoothed a hand down his face.

"What's gotten your loincloth in a bunch?" purred a voice behind him. Delicate fingers danced across Daemon's shoulders to have palms settle on them. "Oh, wait. Let me guess. Someone jammed that stick just a little too far up your ass today?"

Daemon rolled his head back to stare at the grinning Daedra. He then forlornly glanced back at the letter and sighed. "Maybe."

Sam almost seemed discouraged by Daemon’s noncommittal answer. Like he was expecting Daemon’s usual eyeroll and commentary about what Daemon thought about the Daedra in that instance.

"'Maybe'?" Sanguine parroted, still somewhat baffled. His hands rose up to cup Daemon's chin. "Do I actually need to check? I didn't think someone could get that stick any further up there."

Daemon could feel his expression soften. He missed the regular banter, even if it meant Sam poking fun at how serious he usually was. 

"No," he said, finally answering the Daedra's question after a long pause. "You don't need to check."

"You sure?" asked Sam as he leaned in deeper on a breathy sigh. Then his grin faltered slightly, and his lip curled up slightly with mild disgust as his nose wrinkled. 

Daemon was about to turn to face the Daedra properly when Sam's hands squeezed to hold him tightly in place.

Sam sniffed him. "Do you throw yourself at every Daedra that approaches you?" he asked, _amused… annoyed?_

Daemon paused, then realized that somehow Sam could still recognize Ruo Venas' scent on him - or, Daemon assumed he could, despite the weeks and several baths since. "Wouldn't you?" Daemon half-heartedly teased, but he couldn't imagine that the Daedra could be… jealous. It never had been an angle he tried before.

"Oh, of course I would." His inhumane gaze settled on the rose-gold ring hanging down from Daemon's neck, red irises narrowing to cat-like slits before relaxing. "I thought you mortals were more…" Spinning his wrist, his expression scrunched up, like he was trying to find a word on the tip of his tongue. Like, somehow there was something else behind its meaning that was struggling to be conveyed. Eventually, Sam seemed to settle on, "careful."

"I'm old," Daemon replied on a casual shrug. "A good time gets harder to come by. Plus, you fear death less at my age."

Sam seemed intrigued by his dismissive response. "Oh? Well, Babe. I might just have to show you a better time then. You'll never want to fuck anyone else without me again."

 _I already do…_ Daemon's heart lamented, though the Daedra took no notice. 

Sam wrapped his arms around Daemon's shoulders, to swing around to sit in his lap. His leg inserted itself between Daemon's thighs. Sam pushed higher, his knee pressing against Daemon's manhood. "Your balls feel a little heavy, Babe. I don't think your last fuck emptied them very well…"

Daemon was certain that wasn't how his anatomy worked, but that didn't stop his tongue from commenting. "Well… I guess seducing is all Seducers are good for."

"A Seducer? I didn't know Sheogorath's little scamps had a little Dae-time."

"I was told they were Mephala's. Supposedly different."

An interesting expression flitted across Sam's face, not staying longer for half a second before Sam regained control of his expression. His hands were sneaking onto Daemon's hips to encourage the man to grind against the Daedra's leg. Sam was surprisingly quiet.

"Aren't you a wellspring of conversation."

Sam bit into the fabric of Daemon's shirt. His teeth caught its ties cinching up its front and tugged the bow open to bare Daemon's chest. "I'm still better," Sam claimed. "Those ghost sneezes have nothing on me."

"Bold claims for someone still dressed. It's been what… five minutes?" Daemon couldn't resist teasing. It amazed Daemon that Sam hadn't already vanished the robe from his body. The Daedra must have been more distracted than he thought, though the Daedra's loose robe had already fallen from one shoulder, and its bottom hem was hiked up around Sam's waist. There wasn't much less Sam could be wearing to still be considered dressed.

Sam paused. "Are you sure you're not a Seducer yourself, Dae?"

"Last time I checked…"

"Well, I'll certainly have to check for myself. I don't think I can trust you." The claw on Sam's forefinger hooked into the opened V of Daemon's shirt and tugged down, tearing partially through the fabric.

"Hey!"

"It was a lost cause anyway. So last year."

"Don't wreck my shirt."

Sam didn't retract his claw. "There's my Daemon. Puts his possessions over a good ti-"

Daemon's knife sliced through Sam's robe to drop the teal fabric to the floor. The blade had been resting on the table. "Tit for tat…"

The Daedra blinked at the cloth like he only then just realized he had been wearing it seconds earlier. "Well… That doesn't happen often…"

"I doubt that."

Sam hummed, but remained otherwise nonplussed by his new nakedness. He flicked his finger in Daemon's direction.

His shirt was the first to melt from his body, ending up in a similar heap of discarded cloth. His pants and underclothes followed soon after, leaving Daemon with only his boots and a Daedra straddled over one leg.

"Now that we are both properly addressed for the occasion, what is your flavor today Dae?"

Daemon stared questionably at the Daedra.

"Not strawberry then?" 

Daemon still didn't quite understand, but he was certain Sam was trying to make fun of him.

"How about being my cherry on top?" Sam added.

Daemon's expression turned non-impressed. "Not if you're calling it like that."

Sam grinned cheekily. "That's not a 'no'..."

"It's hardly a 'yes' either."

The Daedra wrapped his arms around Daemon's sides to rise up to Daemon's shoulders. "It's close enough with you." Sam's tail had reappeared and flicked contentedly back and forth.

Daemon made a noise, his eyes drifting elsewhere. 

"Cherry-flavored it is then…" Sam purred, leaning more weight against Daemon.

The man struggled to continue having the Daedra suspended on his legs between table and chair. He shifted his legs, trying to find some angle that wasn't forcing his knees to bend the wrong way - not that Sam was going to stay content where they were.

With a push against the table, Sam forced the chair off balance.

Daemon swore as man and Daedra fell back, and he was already bracing for the bone jarring impact of the back of his head against hard flooring.

"Whoopsie," laughed Sam, catching Daemon in his arms. The chair clattering to the ground without either of them on it. "You don't have to fall so hard for me, Dae."

Daemon should have been able to share in the terrible pun, but with Sam's words, all he could think was, _If only Sam knew how hard he had fallen…_

Sam lifted him further, sweeping him from his feet to carry him to the room's bed. To carry him, newlywed style, and throw him onto the mattress.

Already naked, Sam dove between Daemon's legs. He teased them apart with hands tracing up Daemon's bare thighs. "Why, hello handsome," the Daedra purred, his hands wrapping around Daemon's mast.

"Are you talking to me, or my cock?" Daemon asked propping himself up on his elbows.

"This beautiful thing of course!" declared Sam as his peppered Daemon's ruby tip with kisses. They traveled to his base, then higher. Up his stomach, around one pec. His throat. His jaw. His lips.

Daemon returned the kisses then, a hand rising to tangle in the Daedra's silken hair.

"And, this beautiful thing," Sam whispered seductively against Daemon's lips.

Daemon returned the compliment with more kisses. He teased Sam's plush lower lip with his teeth, pulling back to tug on them gently before diving in for more.

His hands caught the back of Sam's head, to tighten into his hair to hold in close. Sam returned the gesture in kind, his claws scratching into Daemon's scalp as their kiss deepened into something else.

Daemon realized in that instance he needed Sam. He needed him like he needed food, like he needed water, like he needed air.

It was the reason he kept hoping, it was the reason he kept chasing after Sam even if he would only end up hurt.

Daemon yanked on the Daedra's hair, pulling the Daedra back into the mattress where the man could box Sam in with his form. Where he could fool himself into momentarily thinking that Sam was his. Exclusively his, and his alone.

He pressed up against Sam, his hips lined with hips, as his cock was trapped between their two bodies as Daemon straddled him.

"This is so tame, Babe," whined Sam with a smirk. "Humping me? No actual dicking?"

Daemon looked only half amused, the other half was stuck somewhere between annoyed and embarrassed by the Daedra's teasing. "What's the hold-up?"

On a widening grin, Sam caught up Daemon's lips again. "My apologies," Sam whispered against his flesh. "Let me make it up to you."

Delicate fingers coaxed their way down Daemon's hips. They kneaded into his buttocks, and gave a purposeful squeeze. 

"My plump, Cherry."

Daemon was unamused by this most recent nickname, and he would rather it didn't stick. "Please don't…"

Sam's response was a snicker. Then, with fingers now somehow rich with oil, the Daedra nimbly plyed into him to spread Daemon open. Those fingers were as careful as they were eager. They pumped and scissored, curling to press up against his walls with rolling motions. 

Daemon could feel himself reflexively tighten around those skillful digits, his body bending around Sam as his hands dug into the meat of the Daedra's shoulders.

His mouth opened as his tongue dared to loll out of his face.

"Does it feel good, Dae?"

That spot inside him is rubbed gingerly. Just enough to choke his next words. Just enough to have his body jolting, but not yet sending shivers down his spine.

At that point, Daemon could only let out a low growl, though the sound was far closer to a keening whine. 

"I'll take that as a yes…" This time, those fingers rubbed purposefully harder. Daemon felt that shiver down his spine, and then some. It reached his toes, curling them tight into the sheets. His head fell into the junction of the Daedra's shoulder and neck.

With his nose pressed against Sam's throat, he didn't need his ears to know the Daedra was purring. The sound rattled against his teeth.

"Are you ready for me?" whispered the Daedra.

****

Daemon's eyes snapped open as the space beside him on the mattress bounced back up. Daemon caught the Daedra's wrist. 

Sam had tried to leave him again. Tried to escape when he thought Daemon had fallen asleep. 

"Wait."

"Babe, as fun as you are. I have other places to be."

"I'll find a way," Daemon… pleaded. "You gave me this for a reason!" He held up the ring, all but shoving it into the Daedra's face.

Sam almost appeared to flinch back from it, but then his false smile returned. "How do you know I don't just hand those things out like candy?"

"Why did you apologize?"

Sam's words caught in his throat, and his eyes shifted away from Daemon, from the rose-gold ring. "I don't apologize…" 

"'I'm sorry I can't love you, Dae.'" Daemon repeated, the final line of Camille's translations burning in the back of his mind.

He already knew why. He pieced it together from what he had learned. He just wanted to hear it from Sam himself.

This time Sam didn't try to evade his unvoiced question. "Love is a poison," was all the Daedra offered in return before melting from Daemon's grip and disappearing back into the shadows.

Daemon was left staring at his empty hand. He returned it to his lap, the rose-gold ring sitting now loosely in his palm.

"Love is a poison," he repeated to the empty room. Sam had said the same thing a long time ago. Daemon had dismissed it from his mind then. He had just thought it some quirk of the immortal being. Now… Now he wasn't as sure.

 _'I'll find a way…'_ , _why had he blurted that out?_ _Did he dare think that he had been the first? That this was something that he could fix?_

His hand closed tightly around the ring, enough that he could feel its curve shaping his fist. "I'm an idiot…" His head sank low into his chest, and his eyes squeezed shut.

Daemon laughed degradingly. He had just been ignoring the signs… The blessed amulet of Mara had been far too effective against Sam, and when Daemon had finally confessed… He sighed. 

At the time, he had been too angry to register the pain on the Daedra's face. The desperation to reach him still, despite what agony Sam was in… The charred remains of the wooden puppet Sam had used as a body… 

_It hadn't been that Sam couldn't love, it was that Sam shouldn't love,_ his thoughts regretfully admitted. But, there was another thought, one that howled painfully in his core. _Then why was I allowed to love him?!_ If Daemon didn't, he could have walked away from all of this - maybe even be happy. But, that was a lie. He had finally been happy… with Sam.

He swore and pressed his hands together as if in prayer in his lap, the ring pressed between his palms.

_Were the gods really so cruel to him?_

_No… just one. The Divine of Love, Mara._

Daemon's eyes opened with a determination they hadn't held in a long time. His goal now lay in Riften, and in the temple of Mara.

He unclasped his hands, and slipped the ring’s chain back around his neck. He grabbed his pants from the floor and quickly tugged them back on. 

Daemon had a long journey ahead of him.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanking the carriage driver, his boots thumped to the cobblestone.

The city was as bad as Daemon remembered it, and it continued to baffle him as to why a city of thieves was home to one of the only temples to Mara within Skyrim. 

The guards didn't hassle him on his entry, though that was only because they were busy extorting someone who looked like easier prey.

His boots carried him down the cobblestone road and to the temple gates. 

He stood there for some time, somehow feeling uneasy with his coming request. Daemon wasn't even sure if Mara would be listening - and the gods knew how little Daemon prayed to any of them.

Somehow his footfalls echoed loudly in the courtyard in the crisp air, and even louder to his ears on the temple's wooden floor.

"May Mara be with you," greeted one of the priests as Daemon entered.

Daemon offered a polite bow in return, hoping silently that this time those words held far more truth than usual. 

He found a spot between the pews. 

Another practitioner was already praying, head bent, hands pressed tightly with palms together. The old woman was kneeling despite her age on the hardwood, the words on her lips ones asking for favor for a grandchild.

He didn't know if the woman's pose held any success, but considering his general lack of knowledge towards the faith-sort, it couldn't hurt to follow an example. 

Daemon knelt, his knees popping slightly as he did so. Casting a quick glance over at the woman he mimicked her hand positions, and began to pray.

As he did so, he noticed that the temple grew silent. There wasn't even the slight murmur of another's prayer to catch his ear. If Daemon opened his eyes, he wondered if he was even still in Riften.

 _"Do not fear, my child,"_ came a soothing voice, yet not quite spoken out loud. There was a hand barely touching the back of his bowed head.

He felt a strong urge to open his eyes.

 _"Don't…"_ warned the voice gently. _"My presence is spread thin across all my temples for those that need my assistance. You will shatter my magic should you open your eyes now, and be returned to where you kneel in my temple."_

Daemon heeded the Divine's words and kept his eyes closed.

"Why have you forsaken me? Why must I suffer in loneliness?" He could feel the bitterness rise in his breast, a feeling that choked him and made breathing difficult.

_"I have not forsaken you…"_

"But, why am I punished? Why are those I love taken?"

The goddess held no immediate answer for him. _"I wish I could protect you from the workings of Daedra, Child. But, they hold far greater sway than I upon your world."_

"Then, may I request a boon, Lady Mara?"

Again, the goddess grew silent before answering. _"Should you complete a task for me first, then I can grant you what you desire. A… contract will offer far greater power than any simple boon I could bestow upon you."_

_Another task. Another hurdle to pass through…_

"What is it that the Lady asks of me?"

_"I have… an old friend you may say. I wish to see her finally happy."_

The request put Daemon slightly off-kilter. "Her? But, my La-"

There came a gentle laugh, a sort of slight breeze of an early spring. _"You do not have to make her happy in that sense. She has her eyes set on another, though she does not quite understand it yet."_

It was Daemon's turn to pause momentarily. "May I ask, Lady Mara. Are you tasking me with playing matchmaker?"

Another laugh. This one feeling like the warmth from the fire after a cold day in the snow. _"As I have mentioned, I do not have the same power as Daedra, and because of this, I must ask you for aid."_

"But, if you cannot…"

 _"Mortals hold far more power over their own realm than they believe. It was the last gift my husband bestowed upon them before his passing…"_ Her soothing voice turned melancholy for a few heartbeats, the image of a grieving widow forcing its way to the front of his mind. It faded as she continued. _"For this, I believe you will succeed. Please help my friend, Meridia, discover love."_

If Daemon's eyes had been open, he would have blinked dumbly. Mara had tasked him with matchmaking the Daedric Prince of Life and Infinite Energies with another. He cleared his throat in some attempt to steady his thoughts before speaking. "And, may I ask who is the lucky individual that has caught Lady Meridia's attentions?"

_"You have already met her I believe…"_

Somehow the Divine's words put him less at ease.

_"The mage… Camille, I believe…"_

That sinking feeling had grown worse. Daemon wasn't sure where to even start with such a task. At least the woman hadn’t been adverse to Daedra. In fact, Daemon was certain the small woman had devoted her life to their study.

_"This is what I ask of you Daemon Faver. This is what I ask in return. Complete this for me and I can grant you the purest love that can never be parted."_

"Forgive me, Lady Mara. But, it is not for a pure love that I have beseeched you. My only desire is that the one I love would not be hurt by… love."

The air grew slightly chilly, the image of a warm hearth suddenly being extinguished. _"You speak of… that beast… do you not?"_

"I… I am afraid so, my Lady."

On a mother's disappointed sigh, Mara spoke calmly. _"That one has wronged me such a long time ago. To undo my curse upon… it would mean to forgive its actions. I cannot do that."_

"Then, may I only ask that if our love proves mutual that… Sanguine is not hurt by it."

Mara paused for a long time, enough Daemon thought she had left. Only the hand still on the back of his head provided any weight to her continued presence. _"You do love… him."_ She said 'him' through harshly gritted teeth, as if acknowledging Sam as more than an object was offense enough. _"It would be ironic for him to be finally bound to a single individual… Very well. If you continue loving that Daedra, I will not punish him for returning your affections. Provided you aid me first."_

"Of course, my Lady. I would not ask it otherwise."

 _“Very well, Daemon Faver. I mark our contract upon your body. When its terms have been met it will disappear and…”_ Mara took a deep pause, as if finding the will to say her next words. _“Sanguine, Daedric Prince of Debauchery will not feel my wrath of loving you should you continue to love him.”_

There was a sort of tickling sensation that spread across Daemon’s skin, settling neatly across his chest. He would know where to look to see Mara’s mark later. “Thank you, Lady Mara.”

 _“Please do not disappoint me.”_

With those final words spoken, the hand lifted from the back of his head and the noise from the Riften temple returned to his ears. He opened his eyes, finding that everyone had been exactly where they had been when he closed them.

His knees complained as he got to his feet, and he had to pop his spine to stop his back from aching - albeit only temporary relief.

He thanked the priest for his time, tossed a coin into their donation basket for good measure, and returned to the Bee and Barb. Daemon, however, didn't expect to suddenly find Sam in his rented room, the weather making camping outside Riften’s walls a current miserable proposition. 

“I didn’t expect to see you again,” he said, beginning to strip himself of his armor. “I thought you were done with me.”

The Daedra’s tail lashed behind Sam with mild irritation. “Why were you visiting the bitch’s temple?”

The man paused as he was unbuckling his bracer, but then continued. “I needed some help with something.”

A dangerous light took hold in Sam’s eyes and he growled. His steps flashed across the floor from bed to Daemon’s side, his hands suddenly digging into the fabric of Daemon’s under-armor. He tore the cloth from Daemon’s front, revealing the mark of Daemon’s contract with the goddess.

“So, what does the big-titted cow want?” Sam hissed lowly, his nose crinkling slightly. His fingers kept moving over the black ink tattooed across Daemon’s chest as if to somehow erase it. His claws began to etch pale, white lines across Daemon’s flesh. “What did you agree to, to be rid of me?”

Daemon caught the Daedra’s wrists when Sam’s rubbing began to raise red on his skin.

“It’s not like that…”

“No?!” Sam snapped, his eyes focussing hard on the Aedric lettering. “Then why is my name in that contract?!”

Daemon had not gotten the chance to look at the newest mark on his body, but he could tell only one word was similar to the Daedric script he had Camille translate. It was not difficult to guess which word that was, but it also occurred to him, that was all Sam could read of it.

He released the Daedra’s wrists, though if Sam had wanted to, he could have easily pulled from Daemon’s hold. “It is about you, but it’s not like that,” Daemon repeated. "I'm trying to help… With what we discussed earlier."

Sam was only mildly placated. His inhuman gaze stared intently at the black lettering as his tail swished with irritation. "Really?" Sam asked almost… hesitantly… hopeful.

"Really," Daemon affirmed.

"You know you're mine, Babe."

The man offered the Daedra a skeptical look _._

Unfazed, Sam continued, "Escape is an impossibility for you by this point anyway. I have your scent. I doubt there's anything Udders could do at this point..."

"And, if you forget it?" Daemon asked perhaps a little too pointedly as he unbuckled his leather greaves. He didn't bother adding 'again', he just let it mellow a bit in the quieting room.

Sam ignored him, flopping back onto the bed. "Is this the best you could afford? I don't know when they changed the mattress last. This straw certainly doesn't smell fresh."

"I wouldn't know." _It wasn't as if he could smell it himself._

Daemon stripped himself of his shirt and inspected what remained of it from Sam’s earlier ravaging with mild distaste. He might be able to still salvage it, though there would have to be a noticeable patch on its front.

This, Sam seemed to notice. “Babe, you know I can fix that…” He was pointing to the nearly destroyed shirt.

Daemon lowered the tunic, to give the Daedra a better stare. “No. I didn’t. You’ve never offered to fix anything of mine.”

“Well… not for free of course.”

“Of course.” Daemon decidedly gave up the consideration of fixing the shirt. The fabric itself would make better patches than the other one he was currently using anyway. He tossed it on top of his backpack where he would put it away later. He was a bit too tired now.

Unsatisfied with Daemon’s reaction, or lack thereof, Sam rolled to his belly to stare. “You’re not going to ask for what?”

Daemon considered his pants, then the Daedra, then his pants. He decided that he’ll sleep with them on. “It’s sex. You always ask for sex.”

Sam’s sly grin slipped from his face. Daemon wouldn’t have been surprised if he heard it hit the floor. “Well… Not… this time…” Sam didn’t sound very convincing, and the reappearance of his thrashing tail told Daemon he was frantically trying to think up something else.

“Well… What is your price?” Daemon crossed his arms over his chest, gripping his forearms with his hands. He leaned back and looked at the Daedra.

Sam was silent.

“Well…?”

The Daedra muttered something silently into the mattress he had complained about earlier.

Daemon offered his own slight smirk. He had been right. The Daedra was so predictable it was sad. Shaking his head, Daemon relaxed then fell onto the mattress beside Sam. “I’m going to sleep. I have to head out tomorrow.”

Sam pulled his head up, an almost kicked-puppy expression on his face. “A head pet!” he declared suddenly. “I’ll fix your shirt if you pet my head!”

Daemon could only stare. “What?” he asked, his mouth hanging open slightly.

Twisting his fingers into the blanket, Sam seemed to be reconsidering what had blurted out of his mouth.

Daemon let out a slight laugh. “You’ll fix my shirt for…?”

Sam frowned. Daemon could tell he was feeling like he was being made fun of, and for a valid reason considering Daemon was. Slightly. “Nevermin-”

Interrupting the Daedra, Daemon ran his hand between Sam’s horns.

Black pupils relaxed into large disks, his tail went rigid for only a second before it collapsed like a limp noodle. 

“Why do you enjoy this so much?” Sam asked as his tattoos pulsed brighter slightly, his eyelids growing heavier as a low rumble began to fill the room.

“Are you sure it's me enjoying this that much?” Daemon asked himself, as he continued stroking the Daedra. 

“Babe. Do you really think I’d enjoy something as vanilla as petting?”

“My mistake.”

Sam hummed an agreement, though it was hard to hear over all his purring.

When Daemon stopped to finally settle for sleep, the room grew quiet again. Sam would likely not admit it, but he could only be disappointed that Daemon had stopped. "I'll fix your shirt," the Daedra said.

"You don't have to." Daemon had decided he would use it for scrap material anyway, the stitching had been beginning to let out at the armpit and there was already a small hole forming on the left sleeve.

"A deal's a deal." 

"I didn't take your deal. I just felt like petting you."

Sam frowned, nose scrunching slightly. He squinted at Daemon.

"What?"

"I'm not some cat," he said rather indignantly.

 _That's exactly what you're like…_ Daemon mused. _Some stray that wandered into his life and stole the place at his hearth… in his heart…_

"Do what you will then." Daemon pulled the blanket up around his shoulders and closed his eyes. 

The mattress shifted beside him, and when he opened his eyes, Sam was peering at his face.

"Now what?"

"Do you enjoy sleep?"

"Not really…" 

Since Sam had forgotten him, his nights were once more haunted. Dungeons, cold, fangs. Sam had saved him from that Oblivion-damned place in more ways than one… for a time. The Daedra’s… absence had let it creep back into his mind.

"I could be working instead," Daemon answered.

"That's a rather boring reason to not sleep."

"Do Daedra sleep?"

"Sometimes." Sam mirrored Daemon pulling up the blanket to cover his own shoulder. "But, only if we feel safe enough to do so."

"So, I'm harmless?"

"No. You'd protect me."

"Would I?"

"Wouldn't you?" Sam asked in return, offering a yawn that Daemon couldn't tell if it was genuine.

Daemon blew a short breath of air through his nose. He rolled over, trying to ignore the second body in bed with him, trying to ignore how at ease he felt with Sam beside him.

The Daedra only chuckled.

* * *

As soon as the man fell asleep, Sanguine's eyes flicked open. He wouldn't be able to sleep despite his earlier show. He was far too full of power to do so.

Sanguine sat up, the meager blanket the inn provided sliding from his bare shoulder.

_Daemon…_

Sanguine just couldn't understand it. This mortal, of all the mortals he had ever interacted with, was attempting to solve something even Sanguine had long given up on - or Sanguine assumed that was what the man was trying to accomplish, if his words could be trusted. A part of him felt like they could be. A part of him wanted to believe in Daemon's words:

_'It is about you, but not like that. I'm trying to help… with what we discussed earlier.'_

For him, Daemon entered a contract. A contract with that wretched goddess who cursed Sanguine to a loveless immortality just for sleeping with her husband. 

Sanguine scoffed into the night air, and ran a hand through his hair, pulling it messily to one side in the process. His fidgety hand fell back to the mattress beside him. He couldn't even remember who bedded who first. _Him? Lorkhan?_ Not that it mattered really. Sanguine ended up being the one paying for that tryst.

His gaze shifted back to the sleeping man, the slow rise and fall of his chest, and the tattooed contract upon it. Sanguine's name sat accusingly among the flowing Aedric script, saying _'he did this for you, but you'll just forget him again like all the others.'_

Sanguine reached out, his finger curling around the edge of the gifted rose-gold ring, still tied around the Daemon's throat. Its enchantment had slowed the man's aging, even continued to slow it, but Sanguine had enchanted it so haphazardly that it was losing effectiveness. A few more years and it would cease to do anything for him.

"Hey Babe," Sanguine whispered, low enough that Daemon wouldn't wake. "How would you like to be my Vice of Lust? Normally I can satisfy that myself, but… It'll help with that whole mortal thing you got going for you… Give you more time with that… contract."

The man didn't answer, not that Sanguine had expected him to.

Sanguine ran a finger through the greying hair, the lines of aging becoming suddenly that more pronounced as he continued watching Daemon's sleeping face. "Well, I still owe you for the petting, and you did say I could do what I wanted…"

Sanguine summoned his rose to him, the staff bearing half its petals. His current champion wasn't proving nearly as interesting as he had thought. He wouldn't regret forgetting this one. 

He stood from the bed, and set himself at the foot of it, facing Daemon. "Normally there is a little more ceremony for this sort of thing, but it's a little late to bother people. Don't you think?"

Again, the man didn't answer.

"Oh, well." Sanguine tamped the butt of the rozen staff against the ground, a sort of burning desire beginning to form in his chest. He could feel the orb forming in his body, being drawn from Oblivion itself.

Sanguine watched as each petal slowly shriveled and wilted, his artificial breath catching as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. He hoped there would be enough power to finish before he would be inevitably sent back. If he didn't get the formed gem into Daemon, then it would be a wasted effort.

As the last petal began to wilt, Sanguine let go. He bent to all fours and began to force himself to vomit. 

The ruby ball bullied its way up his throat and hit the floor with a wet thump. It had formed well enough. Not perfect, a little small, and perhaps with a few flaws, but it would do.

He staggered towards Daemon's side, his body already turning leaden as he willed a few more seconds into moving the construct. Sanguine pried Daemon's lips open and popped the candy-sized sphere inside.

"Can you swallow for me, Dae?" he asked gently, not daring to touch Daemon more than he already had for fear of finally waking the man.

The man didn't say anything.

Sanguine frowned. He had enough experience to know trying to force the thing down the man's throat could have it going down the wrong tube. It could end up choking Daemon instead of helping him.

"Babe…" Sanguine poked Daemon's cheek.

The man mumbled before shifting slightly, his Adam's apple bobbing with a subtle swallow.

"Good boy…" Sanguine relaxed back, propping himself against the nightstand. He had a few seconds left and he was going to use everyone watching this curious mortal. "I'll be back, Dae… You can’t get rid of… me… that ea…"

* * *

Daemon had never been a light sleeper, and it had only gotten worse as he got older… more experienced with the hazards of deeper sleep.

He stirred when he heard the Daedra talking, but curiosity had him keep quiet.

Now fully awake, and noticing complete silence from the usually talkative Daedra, he sat up. He spat the marble out and caught it in his palm.

Daemon inspected the spherical ruby the Daedra had wanted him to swallow.

_'How would you like to be my Vice of Lust?'_

He had no clue what that would mean, what it could possibly entail for his future - not that it was so certain.

_'It'll help with that whole mortal thing you got going for you…'_

Daemon caught sight of the wooden mannequin sitting against the nightstand, Sam's latest shell empty once more. It made his heart feel complicated. Sam would be out looking for another champion soon… 

He had to tamp down the urge to chase after the Daedra. He had his own mission first, pursuing Sam right now would be pointless. It would only end in pain again.

His fist clenched around the jewel and he held it tight against his chest. What was Sam's 'Vice of Lust', and why was the Daedra trying to sneak Daemon into being it? 

_Likely because Daemon wouldn't agree…_

He relaxed his grip and stared at the ruby again. Hard. Like his eyes could somehow pierce the veil and tell him what would happen should he actually swallow it.

Daemon weighed it in his hand, let it roll across his palm. He still couldn't tell what it was, what it would do.

Eventually, he let impulse claim him and swallowed it. At first, nothing seemed to happen. Daemon took several pacing steps around the room, and still nothing. He glanced in the mirror and still didn't see anything unusual.

So, much for Daedric dramatics. Daemon let out a long sigh. He could almost say he was disappointed by the resu-

Then, he noticed the curling heat in his belly. Something akin to a slow-building flame.

_Oh, you bastard!_

He sank to his knees, his body gaining sensitivity with every passing second. He wasn't wearing much, but what he was, was feeling like too much.

He slipped a finger along the waist of his pants, working them over his hips with tight teeth. Every movement was an agony, some form of exquisite torture that had his length jumping. Daemon wasn't sure what he wanted more, someone's cock in him, or his cock in someone.

_'Vice of Lust' indeed…_

Daemon definitely wouldn't have agreed to this, had he known. He would've and should've just thrown the gem back at Sam and told him exactly where he could shove-

He moaned as his cock sprung free from his trousers. Pearlescent precum dribbled from its swollen head, fat drops falling against the wood floor.

The hand bracing his curled position on the floor, curled into a tight fist, every muscle in his arm suddenly straining as he leaned hard into it. Daemon swallowed heavily, his throat bobbing as sweat began to bead at his temples.

 _Both_ , his need demanded. He needed his cock in someone and he needed a cock in him at that very moment, but all he had was his hand.

He found it already wrapped around his throbbing length. It felt thick and heavy in his palm.

Daemon's breath caught in his throat. A sort of hitching gasp as a simple squeeze of his hand felt far more than that.

_Damn… Damn… Damn…_

He hissed through his teeth, his eyes drifting closed as his head tilted back to the ceiling. His hand continued to stroke himself, a needing roll of his fingers down his shaft, then back up again to give his root a quick squeeze. And, then another.

Somehow, in the madness of his pleasure, Daemon found his pacing. 

It helped, somewhat. To have a small bit of control in an otherwise spiraling descent. He was swept with it, moving ever faster to his climax. It was a whirlpool. A vortex. Pain. Pleasure. Hot. Cold. Up. Down. His senses were a mess. All Daemon could think about was his desire, his engorged length in his hand that constantly wanted more.

Then he finally reached his peak. He spilled outward, his energy draining with each copious pump of his cock.

The choking feeling abated as Daemon continued to spend himself across the floor. It had abated back to almost nothing, and Daemon was grateful for the relief.

He pushed to his feet pulling up his pants in the process, but froze again when he caught sight of a stranger in the mirror… or he supposed an old face in the mirror. It was his, the image mimicking his motions as he pulled at more youthful skin confirmed it. He was still grey, but more towards the beginning of his greying rather than a majority already white.

"That'll certainly help with the 'mortal thing'," he mused with an annoyed fascination.

Daemon straightened away from the full-length mirror. He paused when he recognized the earlier sensation coiling once more in his gut, but it never rose. Just an on and off wave in the background of his thoughts - one that wouldn't mind another round despite the current oversensitivity of his cock.

"I suppose it would be too much to ask for no side effects," he muttered to the empty room.

No one answered him.


	8. Chapter 8

It was a few days later, but as expected, Daemon found Sam at a bar, beaming brightly at the bartender with a rather large, and rather full tankard in hand. He was in his usual mortal guise, a Breton. Face flush with alcohol's influence, and a slight slur to his speech.

Daemon sat beside the disguised Daedra, somehow seeing double. Like the Daedra's actual appearance was somehow overlaid with another. Daemon managed to blink away the contented swishing tail as Sam drank down the last of his most recent drink.

"Welcome, Babe."

Daemon was almost getting sick as he tried to comprehend the clipping images of Sam's Daedric appearance and his disguise. "What's wrong with you?" Daemon said, motioning to the barkeeper for his own drink.

Sam puzzled over what Daemon was asking, then laughed loud. A drunkard's laugh. "Sorry. Forgot for a moment there." 

The double Sam's solidified to one again. Sam's Daedric form. Daemon immediately shot a quick glance at the other patrons.

"Don't worry yourself, Babe. I tuned to that thing in your stomach." The Daedra grinned knowingly. "How do you like my blessing, by the way?"

"I think by definition, this is a curse…" 

Sam’s head touched the table and he lovingly pulled his tankard closer. “Aww. Don’t be that way…”

"This is the way I am, Sam." Daemon looked away to stare at the bar top instead and pulled out a stool for himself. He sat down. "Why?"

"'Why', Babe?"

"Why does it occasionally get worse?"

Sam grinned like some idiot that had a secret. "Why do you think?"

Daemon glared.

Shrugging, Sam answered. "So, harsh, Babe. But, seriously… no guesses?"

Daemon had a few. Each and every time it occurred there were some notable consistencies. At night, and a good month or so after the last time. "I'm not a sex werewolf."

Sam barked a laugh, his… tail flicking with amusement. "No? How old were you? Each time?"

Leaning back in his chair, Daemon crossed his arms over his chest. "Wouldn't know…"

The Daedra leaned in and ruffled Daemon's hair. Annoyed, Daemon swatted at the offending hand. 

"I bet you let yourself get fairly grey."

Daemon sighed. He had, and by the second time, there was no question as to what sort of activities would reverse his aging - albeit temporarily. "But, why?"

"You're my Vice, Dae. I can't let you get too old."

"So, you're the damn cause."

Sam hummed and tilted his head to the side. "I could make it more frequent…"

"No. That's… fine." Daemon stood up. The chair scraped back with a harsh sound.

The Daedra made a fist and pumped it a few times in a suggestive manner. "Try jerking it more often, and you won't have a problem, Babe."

Daemon made a disgusted noise as he headed for the exit. "I'll keep that in mind."

Sam rose to intercept him. "Leaving so soon?"

"I have a job to get to."

"Where?"

"Small village close by."

The Daedra paused as if searching something then said, "It doesn't even have a tavern…"

"Fortunately," Daemon muttered.

But, Sam wouldn't be distracted by Daemon's comment. "Why stop here then, Babe? It's a little out of the way. You could have gone straight there." Unseen by the other patrons, his tail swished slightly. "Unless you came to find me… How sweet, Dae."

"I came for answers. I've got them. I'm now leaving."

Sam tugged on Daemon's sleeve, licking his upper lip none-too-subtly. "Surely you can stay a little longer."

"And, why would I do that?"

"Because you want to sleep with me."

Daemon's mouth quirked up into a slight smile. "Is that so?"

"Everyone wants to… So, what say you?" Sam walked his fingers up Daemon's chest and was about to poke his nose when Daemon grabbed his wrist.

"Don't touch my nose."

The Daedra tsked. "That's a rather boring response."

"Don't touch my nose," Daemon repeated as Sam still put some strength into his hand.

Sam looked at Daemon, looked at the scar running across his nose, then rolled his eyes. He pulled back his hand. "Fine," the Daedra said dismissively. "I won't touch your nose."

However, the Daedra's admittance didn't omit Sam touching anything else. Daemon's ass cheek was rudely fondled.

Daemon glared.

"You didn't say anything about that toned butt of yours."

"I didn't. Nor did I imply that it was available."

"You haven't stopped my hand yet…"

"Could I, if I wanted to?"

Sam's eyes glinted their mischievous light, as if he could feel that heat swirling lowly in Daemon's belly. That near insatiable heat, Sam put there, even before the Vice. "But, you don't want to."

"Don't I?"

"You're curious. You want to know just exactly what I did to you." Sam twirled a finger in a small circle on Daemon's chest. 

He could feel his heart speed up slightly. "Stop that." The Daedra was doing something. Sam had to be doing something.

The Daedra leaned into his ear to whisper, "I haven't done anything… yet. That's all you, Dae."

"The Vice…" Daemon guessed. 

Sam only cocked his head to the side, his 'innocent' smile tugging on the corner of his plush lips.

Daemon swallowed and tried to ignore the heat spreading to his loins. "It's…"

"What, Dae?" pushed Sam. The Daedra seemed to love these games. He seemed to love it when Daemon tried to guess.

_ Daedra… _

His heart was beating faster now and that heat was becoming unignorable. "It enhances what's already there… and being your… Vice of Lust…"

"Feeling a little hot and bothered, Babe?"

Daemon huffed. The slight puff of air from his nose, causing a further upward twitch of Sam's lips. 

"How long has it been since the last time, Dae? How long have you been leaving little Dae all on his lonesome?"

Daemon's cock spoke up for itself, jumping slightly against the leg that slipped seductively between his thighs.

Daemon though, kept his expression level, thoroughly ignoring the cocky, sure grin plastered to the Daedra's face.

"Were you looking for me? Were you wanting to get off to me?"

Daemon could feel the heat creeping up his neck, likely turning the base of it red.

"No," he said in flat denial. He had… only wanted his questions answered. That was it. That was all. And, now that he had them answered… he could leave.

If only he could convince his legs of that.

They seemed to have taken root where he stood, holding him in place, holding him within Sam's grasp.

"Are you sure?"

A heartbeat.

"Yes."

Sure of himself, Sam hummed. "I think you're lying…"

Daemon found strength in the Daedra's truthful accusation. He willed himself to defy Sam… and himself. "I'm not," he said, breaking free of his rooted feet and stiffly headed towards the tavern's door in a way that wouldn't reveal his growing bulge.

Disbelieving, Sam followed. "Hey!" he yelled after, his form flickering back to Sam Guevenne. The image of the Breton became more prominent as Daemon pulled further from the building… from Sam.

Daemon stopped, his feet once more taking root. He could keep doing this to his heart. It kept pulling him back to the Daedra even though his head knew they couldn't be together. Not yet. He rubbed his chest, the tattooed ink of his contract still ever-present.

He was stalling. He knew that. He wanted to be with Sam even despite the current impossibility of that. His eyes clenched tight, then opened again with a determined light.

Somehow he had to get Camille together with Meri-

"I said, 'hey'!"

Daemon was tackled from behind, the force knocking him unsteady, as a grip tightened around his bicep and yanked him back into the shadow of the tavern. 

"You were supposed to stop," declared the Daedra.

Daemon's golden eyes drifted away. "I can't keep doing this…" he admitted out loud, though he wasn't sure just how much of his confession was for Sam or himself.

Sam frowned… or more accurately, he pouted. The Breton guise appeared to be bursting at the seams, just barely able to contain the Daedra all of a sudden. Sam's flickering eyes danced from his face to the occasional passerby with Daemon's abrupt rigidity. 

So far, no one had started noticing the way Sam's height seemed to be rapidly fluctuating, nor the bleed of paleness from his skin. But, neither Daemon nor Sam knew for how long people would ignore such obvious magic.

"Not here we can't," Sam eventually said, snapping his attention back to Daemon.

The Daedra gripped the front of Daemon's jerkin and dragged him around the side of the building. 

They remained sheltered by the starting drizzle of the afternoon rain under the slight overhang.

"No, Sam…" Daemon started on a sigh. "We can't… I can't…"

Sam quirked an eyebrow, as he completely shed his mortal skin. "Little Daemon doesn't think so."

"'Little Daemon' doesn't do the thinking," Daemon retorted.

"He should," purred Sam, one of his legs bumping up against Daemon's crotch. "You'd enjoy things a bit more."

"That's not… It's…" Sam was missing the entire point, and Daemon wondered just how futile this conversation would be.

Sam slid his palms into Daemon's. Right hand into right hand. Left hand into left hand. Their fingers intertwined like embracing lovers as Sam navigated them above Daemon's head. The Daedra kissed him, forked tongue exploring the hot passion of Daemon's mouth, exploring the unlocked lust of Daemon's heart.

"I won't love you, Babe…"

Daemon squeezed his eyes shut, his forehead knocking against the Daedra. Sam didn't need to say the 'not yet' for Daemon to feel it. But, that was the problem. He didn't know how to play matchmaker. He barely could cobble together his own relationships - and those had ended poorly.

"Dae?"

He rose up in a wave, his body surging over the Daedra as his lips found Sam's. 

Daemon could almost feel that all too familiar heat building in his belly with his rising want. It was as if that thing recognized Sam as much as his heart did. Stirred to waking by Daemon's need. It left a longing to be whole. A singular desire to be held, to hold. His body lusted for Sam as much as his heart craved the Daedra's presence. Only then could his mind be at peace.

Sam laughed with delight, his body thrust up against the opposite wall of the alley with a teeth-rattling force. His breath was forced from his mouth - though Daemon couldn't confirm if the Daedra had lungs to punch the air from.

But, that was all the thought Daemon gave it, his palms pressing tightly against the wood of the general store until his fingers turned white.

"Ba-" started Sam before Daemon sealed those plush lips with his own, something almost too savage to be considered a kiss anymore. His teeth nipped at those lips, at the tongue that tried to invade his mouth.

Daemon convinced himself that this wasn't him. That the one devouring the Daedra's mouth, the one moving his hands into the Daedra's robes, wasn't him. It was all Sam's Vice of Lust, even if it actually wasn't.

He fell so deep into his inner mantra of 'it's not me', that it blurred everything that he was doing. Daemon entered a sort of detached reality as Sam's robes were torn open, Daemon's leg coming to nestle tightly between the Daedra's thighs to somewhat mirror the events of earlier.

His hands roamed copper flesh eagerly, each touch encouraged by a pulsing glow of Sam's tattoos. He rubbed and squeezed. The Daedra's own hands doing the same. Daemon ground against Sam’s touches, his body encouraging the Daedra to loosen the ties on his breeches.

His cock sprung forth on a groan from his lips. He ground harder against Sam, to let the still cocky bastard feel his thickened weight press against Sam's lower belly.

He wanted Sam. He needed Sam. 

"You are my addiction…" he half murmured, half growled possessively. The thing in his belly writhed with agreement, urging Daemon for more.

"I know," Sam returned with a grin, one bare leg hooking around Daemon's waist. "I'm everyone's…"

Sam's words sobered him slightly, like a dump of cool water on the head of a drunkard. 

Daemon stepped back, his cock bobbing dejectedly in the cooling air. He tucked himself away.

_ He couldn't be like 'everyone'... He couldn't accept being just like 'everyone'... He had to be… someone…  _

"Daemon," Sam seemed to protest indirectly. The Daedra grabbed at his arm, tried to encourage him back. He navigated Daemon's hands back to his waist, his fingers tight on Daemon's wrists. "You're  _ my _ addiction… And, that is no small feat."

Daemon swallowed the red beginning to stain the tips of his ears and kept his expression flat. He did this, but couldn't stop the slight warm pulse of Sam's tattoos betraying his true emotions. 

_ That was what he had needed to hear at that moment… _

"Now… Let us unsmother that poor, abused thing…" Sam purred, his hands releasing Daemon once he knew the man had been convinced to stay… again. His finger tugged down Daemon's pants with ease - Daemon himself not yet had the chance to tie up its laces.

"Sometimes it feels like you're only after my prick."

Sam's inhuman eyes focused on the mentioned prick, it jumping free with exuberance to drool over Sam's digits. "And, such a needy thing it is."

"It usually isn't like this…" Daemon said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he stepped closer into the Daedra's space.

"I should help you rectify that then…" Sam returned in kind.

"Not in public…" Daemon kissed him. Softer this time. Gentler this time. As if he could somehow suggest his inclination against public indecency had more to do with the sake of his partner than with his pride.

Sam hummed, perhaps noticing that subtlety. "Fine…" he conceded, hands coming up to grip Daemon's shoulders. "Just don't complain about what happens next."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I've caught up to what I had prepared. I can no longer guarantee regular updates past this point. ><

With the sun not yet rising, Sanguine straddled the man. Daemon hadn't woken yet, but that was fine. He didn't need Daemon awake for-

Golden eyes blinked open.

_ Oops. _

The Daedric Prince supposed he was caught, not that Daemon would know what he had just caught Sanguine attempting.

"Morning, Babe," Sanguine said.

The man groaned, not at all pleased by Sanguine's appearance. 

_ Apparently, someone was perhaps a bit sore from their vigorous activities the night before. _

"What do you want?" Daemon said with just a hint of annoyed hostility.

_ Scratch that earlier thought. Someone was definitely still sore from their vigorous activities the night before. _

"Nothing. Though I suppose now that you're up, I can ask your opinion on something…" Sanguine's hands rested on either side of Daemon's head, his palms cupping Daemon's ears and the edges of his cheeks lightly.

Daemon's honey-colored eyes drew from Sanguine's hands, up the Prince's winding tattoos to his face. He squinted slightly, trying to puzzle out what Sanguine might ask before he even had a chance to say it. "What is it?" Daemon asked eventually when the answer couldn't be read from Sanguine's face.

"You know… we could end all of this here…"

Daemon's brows knitted together, and he was quickly sobering back to wakefulness. "End what?" His hand rose to grip Sanguine's wrist, as if perhaps afraid Sanguine would suddenly leave.

The Prince of Debauchery only grinned. "This charade. Of you chasing me. Of you suffering for me." Sanguine traced the black Aedric script across the man's chest with a nail. It could fade on its own with time - if Daemon never fulfilled its conditions. He needn't be bound to Cow-Tits forever. She wouldn't hold a grudge if it meant denying Sanguine something in return. "I can make you forget me. And, you can go back to your life before meeting me. You won't need to be in pain anymore."

The man's grip tightened on Sanguine's arm, but he didn't deny the Daedra's statement. "And, if I don't want to?"

"You're not a masochist, Dae. You get no pleasure from hurting like this… I can make it end…"

Daemon still didn’t let go. Sanguine apparently hadn’t convinced him. “Don’t…”

“You couldn’t stop me…” With the one hand that hadn’t yet been captured, Sanguine grazed his fingers across the stubborn man’s cheek. “You wouldn’t even know I did it. I would simply be… gone.”

Contemplating Sanguine’s words, the man swallowed. “Then, you will leave me with a contract tattooed onto my flesh with no knowledge of how to finish it.”

“You wouldn’t need to 'finish it'. It would eventually disappear on its own. It's likely a timed contract."

"I don't accept a contract and then cancel it," Daemon adamantly insisted, his golden eyes flicking occasionally to Sanguine's hand stroking soft circles across his skin. "Even with immortal beings."

Sanguine sighed, rolling back on his thighs to have his butt propped by his heels. His free hand fell away shortly after. "Must you always be so difficult?"

"Always," the man affirmed, his hand still tight on Sanguine's other wrist. "You would have left me so long ago if I wasn't."

The Daedric Prince had to laugh slightly. He supposed that was true. If Daemon had been easy to understand, then perhaps Sanguine would have grown tired of him. 

And, it would have been a shame. 

"I suppose… But, then I wouldn't have such an annoyance chasing after me…" whispered Sanguine.

"You like it."

Sanguine hummed a clipped note. "You're getting us off-topic, Dae. Let me do this?" He wasn't completely sure why he phrased his command as a question. It was as if he had his own hesitance about letting this man go. His fingers curled loosely into the bedsheets separating their hot bodies. 

_ Maybe he was the masochist… _

"No." The man remained stubborn. "I haven't given up yet."

"I can see that…" Sanguine shifted forward again, his groin pressing into Daemon's belly. His fingers rose to comb into Daemon's hair, to play with its short locks. He willed some magic into his fingertips, letting it play through Daemon's sandy-brown hair too, before sinking into the man's scalp.

Not completely unnoticed.

"What are you-?" Aggrieved panic flicked through the man's expression. "Don't! Sam!" Daemon's hands rose, he pushed at the Daedric Prince, shoved with what mortal strength he had to try to budge Sanguine.

A frown stole to Sanguine's lips. He had his magic dig deeper, to try and find that first memory to unravel this mess. To make Daemon forget and move on.

"Sam!"

"Hush, Daemon… It's fine." Sanguine's magic found, not the memory he had been searching for, but the Prince's own magic. The remnant of lust pushed at the invading magic, preventing it from moving deeper, revealing Sanguine's truth. 

_ He didn't want Daemon to forget him. He didn't want to leave this man's side. He didn't want another to take his place. _

"Sam!"

Sanguine let himself be pushed back, and he let his magic be pushed with him. It slunk down the edges of the man's body to swirl back into Daedric tattoos. "You sure are noisy…"

Daemon glowered. Betrayal. Hurt. Emotions Sanguine knew well. Far better than the one influencing his Vice. That one was frustratingly foreign to him, and had to remain that way.

"Fiiiiine. But, I'm giving you a deadline, Babe. No more… lollygagging."

The man didn't answer immediately. Rather, instead of his usual eye-roll, the man’s expression grew flat of expression. “How long?” he asked adamantly.

"Hmm?"

"When is your deadline?" Daemon asked again. He was serious, his manner grave. Daemon might not have been one of Sanguine’s open revelers, but his full attention towards Sanguine was damn gorgeous. It was difficult to say that it didn’t turn Sanguine on a little. 

He felt himself harden against Daemon.

_ Alright… perhaps it was rather flattering…  _

Sanguine ground against Daemon. "A year…?" he hummed, enjoying the subtle friction of his length against the man's stomach.

"Deal," said Daemon uncharacteristically fast.

"Don't you want to think about it first?"

"What's there to think about?" Daemon's hand came up to Sanguine's chest. The man's fingers splayed across his flesh, Sanguine tattoos fluttering slightly under the contact. He pushed again, stopping Sanguine's motions and encouraging the Prince off of him. Daemon pulled his legs under him, then swung them out over the side of the bed.

"Babe?" Sanguine tugged on the man's arm, desire flaring strongly between them like a heavy, permeating scent. He wanted Daemon back in bed, to give him a good-morning-after-fuck.

"I'm on a deadline," Daemon answered, a slight smirk on his face.

"You have a year!" exclaimed Sanguine with rising concern. Perhaps he had proposed the idea a little too suddenly, and now the contract was finalizing.

"Less than a year now," he replied, tugging on his pants that had been folded neatly and laid on the wardrobe the night before.

Sanguine spluttered with his incredulity. "Babe! Dae dearest! The Dae to my night!"

But, each voiced protest only brought a further grin from the man, and another article of clothing to cover him. Soon Daemon was dressed and all that olive skin was once more hidden away behind oiled leather and thick padded fabric.

Sanguine felt slighted. In fact, Sanguine felt very slighted. 

He raised his hand, forefinger, and thumb coming together, willed some magic into them, and snapped his fingers. His magic fizzled, caught in the grips of their new bargain. 

Apparently, he couldn't impede the man's progress. Not directly anyway, and not if said man was inclined to go through with his side of the bargain.

_ Well… that made things more difficult…  _

* * *

Having heard the snap, but not noticing out of the ordinary, Daemon turned back to the bed, and to the puzzled Daedra on it.

Pulling his knees up to his chest, Sam smiled as if nothing had happened - which was a very obvious tell that something had happened… and failed.

"So…" Daemon started, double-checking his bag to make sure he had packed everything. "My clothes are still on…"

Sam tsked, his nose scrunching up slightly. "I changed my mind."

"That snap wasn't you changing your mind," Daemon teased, knowing the Daedra all too well. "Our new deal have anything to do with it?"

"Unfortunately…" Sam threw him an annoyed side look. "You agreed too fast. I didn't get to add anything fun…"

"So, what are the full terms?"

"You have one year- less than one year to finish that Bitch's task. There's no reward for you… you agreed before I could set one." Looking rather bored, the Daedra stretched out across the bed. "Fail and I erase your memories of me, also rather boring."

Daemon nodded. From Sam's summary, it was as he suspected. Though… strange. He felt rejuvenated. The deal wouldn't benefit him, but… it meant that Sam cared enough to attempt something. To set a fire under him, as apparently ill-planned as it was. "I better not fail then."

"What is old Udders asking you to do anyway?"

Daemon opened his mouth but was interrupted. 

"It's not a secret, Babe. She literally tattooed it on you…"

He debated answering. Deciding eventually that there wasn't possibly anything Sanguine could do that would make it more difficult. As Daemon slung his backpack onto his back, he said, "I get to play matchmaker."

Sam's nose wrinkled again. He looked positively disgusted. "Too much information, Babe."

"Really? From you?"

In a sort of dismissal, Sam blew some air sharply between his teeth. "Who do you have to get to fuck who?"

"A woman I met at the mage's college."

"That's only one-" Sam suddenly perked with a rather insipid thought. "You introducing her to her hand? I'm sure there are much-"

Daemon's look fizzled Sam's idea.

"Uggh. That sort of matchmaker… Know what, I'm almost sorry I asked." Sam propped his head on his elbows. "I bet you need a lift to Winterhold though… I could make a portal that just happened to drop you off there."

"What do you want?"

"I'm offended you even had to ask." The Daedra smirked and sat up. His finger hooked into a come-hither motion.

With a sigh, Daemon dropped his backpack. He dropped his bracers, leather armor, underclothes, and boots too.

_ So much for forward progress…  _

"I knew you'd come back to me," Sam gloated, spreading his arms like some hug-starved octopus. The Daedra threw his arms around Daemon's neck, letting his full weight hang there.

"You're a cheaper ride back to Winterhold…" Daemon paused, knowing a little too late how his words could be taken. "I didn't mean that."

Sam grinned anyway. "I'm glad you think so highly of me, Babe. But, are you sure you're not selling yourself to  _ me _ a little cheap? I remember when you said you wouldn't whore yourself out."

Daemon stood there, at the edge of the bed, buck naked and bent over Sam. He braced himself against the mattress as the Daedra continued to drag on his neck. "I'm not. I won't. Ever." He kissed Sam between short sentences, slowly working one knee then the other onto the bed with Sam's encouraging.

"If you're certain," Sam hummed. 

"Shut up," groused Daemon, smothering the Daedra's lips with his.

He earned a small muted laugh, that he felt more than he heard, as Daemon curled an arm around Sam's back, his hand working into Sam's hair. 

Their kiss stretched from one to two, to three. Each progressively longer than the other, each growing deeper as they became more intertwined with the other.

It was inevitable that kissing wasn't the only thing that Sam wanted, his hands moving from Daemon's neck to his hips, to his backside.

Daemon grabbed the wandering hands, stopping them from breaching him - he was still too tender for that again.

"My… turn," he breathed between devouring kisses.

"Anything you say, Babe."


	10. Chapter 10

Once more, Daemon found himself shivering in front of the college's gargoyle. 

He had already used Urag Gro'Shub's writ to get him in once, a blazoned red stamp in its top corner indicating that his task with the librarian had ended. It also didn't help that he looked younger. Far younger than when he had first convinced his way in.

"I just want to see someone inside," he explained slightly exasperatedly.

"Then, you can wait for them to come outside to meet with you."

"But, she-" Daemon caught himself as the woman's eyes narrowed. He realized his mistake a little too late.

The gatekeeper spoke slowly. Deliberately. "All the more reason for you to wait. This is an esteemed establishment. We don't run that sort of business here, young man." The woman sniffed, then turned her sharp nose away. She hadn't even bothered to let him correct her misunderstanding of the situation.

Daemon opened his mouth, then shut it again. He was certain that there was nothing that he could say that would change the woman’s mind. 

With a sigh, he prepared to leave. He’d have to wait at the nearby inn and hope that Camille would come to visit. He, unfortunately, didn’t think he would be lucky to have her come out again though. Something told Daemon that she was the bookish type, and was quite content to stay up in the college for as long as she could.

“Wait!” It was another woman’s voice, this one slightly out of breath.

He turned around finding that there was another mage.

The newcomer was panting, large, white clouds billowing from her mouth and nose. “Wait…” the Breton mage repeated.

“Master Wizard! What brings you here.”

The proclaimed Master Wizard did nothing to introduce herself, instead, her attention whirled on Daemon. "You… Are you…" She paused to take a deep gasping breath. "Are you Daemon Faver?"

Daemon… hesitated. He wasn't sure why the Master Wizard of the Mages' College wanted him, but he was sure it could likely be tied to his ill-luck… or a certain Daedra. "Yes," he eventually answered, though he had to put in some effort to not respond like he was asking a question.

"Thank the Divines." She grabbed his wrist and began dragging him towards the college. 

"What's going on?"

"The Archmage has demanded your presence."

"My-? Why?"

With the assurance that Daemon was going to continue following the Master Wizard, she released his wrist.

"I wouldn't know. He has just commanded your presence and insisted that it was urgent."

Daemon didn't respond. He couldn't respond. There was no way he was suddenly special - association with Sam included.

He felt the hairs along his neck prickle with the thought of the Daedra. He could only pray that Sam hadn't somehow involved himself.

"Mind your step," was all the Master Wizard offered. "It would be inconvenient if I had to fish you out of the ocean as well."

Daemon agreed, but he was more concerned about the jagged rocks he would likely hit first on the way down.

****

The Archmage looked Daemon up and down with his red eyes. "Is this him?" the Dunmer asked stiffly.

The Master Wizard nodded. "Found him at the gate as you said. Apparently, he was trying to get in for a few hours now."

"I see…" The Archmage nodded again, a slight smile pulling on the edges of his lips.

Beside Daemon, the Master Wizard brow knitted slightly, indicating something was off, but she didn't quite know what.

Daemon slightly raised his own questioning brow.

The Dunmer's attention slid to the hesitating Master Wizard. "You may leave us now, Mirabelle."

"Y...Yes." She left, though not without casting one final glance back over her shoulder.

"Might I ask why I'm here?" Daemon asked when the Master Wizard was out of sight.

The Archmage chuckled. "Had you not wanted to enter?"

"I… did…" answered Daemon carefully. He couldn't place why, precisely, but he knew this was not the actual Archmage.

"Then, I suppose congratulations should be in order, hmmm?"

Coming up beside Daemon, the Archmage placed a hand along Daemon's back and pushed, urging him further into the college.

"How about a tour?"

He was pushed past milling students, the stern expression of the Archmage, combined with Daemon's own natural sternness, turned away nearly all that tried to approach. 

Daemon was ushered up stone steps until they reached an empty floor.

The top floor. Daemon's expression shifted between skepticism and concern.

Plants, rare to the mountains, were growing in near abundance in the center of the room. Soft motes of light illuminated the foliage providing the light they needed in the windowless tower space. Rows of bookshelves lined the walls, and a hall curved out of sight.

The thought struck Daemon, that It was almost like they were illicit lovers the way the Archmage grabbed his hand and yanked Daemon behind that curving wall.

Daemon stared at the bed, at the Dunmer, and suddenly all the oddities he had noticed on his way up, clicked together.

"I should thank you for getting me in here… Sam. But-"

The Archmage blinked, an unearthly glow starting in them as a grin spread on his face. The time for pretend was over. 

"Baaabe. Surely you can waste some time with me. You would have been freezing out there for the next few hours if I didn't push things along." Sam, still partially disguised, bounced onto the bed.

It was a little disconcerting to see that stern Dunmer's face, whining and sprawling out across his mimicry's bed.

"I… I didn't ask for your help this time. How did you even get in here?"

Sam let out a laugh, that was not with his usual voice, but the borrowed voice of the Archmage. "You think this tower of pent up sexual frustrations wouldn't be a hotspot of secret debauchery? This is one of the few places that isn't a tavern that is just reeking of it…"

Daemon wouldn't know as his interactions with the college mages were fairly limited. It left him with little ability to refute Sam's claim.

"So? What now?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll be kicked out anyway when they find out. Perhaps even forbid me from ever entering again."

"Oh, I highly doubt that."

Daemon scoffed. "And, where's this confidence coming from?"

"I know one or two higher ups that will pardon any sort of mischief we get up to…"

'"You' get up to," Daemon corrected. "I had nothing to do with this."

The Daedra gave him a look. One, that hinted at something devious. "I wouldn't say that, Babe. You have everything to do with this…"

"Your 'help' was just supposed to end at getting me to Winterhold. I had no issues with getting in here myself."

"Babe. You were about to freeze to death at the gates, and I can assure you, you wouldn't be getting in out of pity."

Daemon glared, but the Daedra was probably right. It didn’t, however, mean that Daemon was going to thank the Daedra.

It would make Sam about near-insufferable.

On a coy smile, Sam encouraged, "The least you can do is rest with me. Just for a little while."

“Rest is the furthest thing from your mind.”

The Daedra shrugged, caught. “Regardless. Join me?” Sam patted a spot beside him on the bed, smoothing a hand over the space on the mattress beside him. Seeing that old, wrinkled hand reminded Daemon that Sam was borrowing another’s form. He briefly wondered if the real Archmage could feel what Sam could.

“And, what would the Archmage say about you mimicking his form?”

“Nothing? I don’t think he’d really care. Besides, I might do something far worse if you don't stay to supervise me…"

"So, you're taking hostages now?"

"If I have to."

Somewhat unimpressed with the Daedra's behavior, Daemon only hummed.

"Just join me, Babe," the Daedra pleaded. "I'll be good."

That got a small chuckle out of him. "No, you won't."

Sam made an amused noise. “You’re dawdling.”

“I am.” Daemon didn’t even try to deny it. Truth-be-told, he was curious. Curious about finally feeling like the younger of the two of them. Gods help him. He was tempted.

The Daedra crooked his finger, drawing Daemon forward on an invisible thread.

****

"Yooou!" came a flustered cry from the door frame. The actual Archmage was standing there, face flushed a dark hue on his ashen face. 

Sam had the audacity to stop fucking Daemon for a few seconds to give a languid wave. "Hey, Aren. What took you?"

"Yoou…" The elder Dunmer tried and failed to articulate his anger. "I came up as soon as Mirabelle came to me. It doesn't help that I shared everything you and this…" 

The Archmage looked at Daemon. 

Daemon looked at the Archmage.

He could tell that there were a few words that the Archmage could say about Daemon in that particular instance. Things that, while mostly untrue, were currently difficult to disprove given the compromising situation. Daemon moved to pull himself free of Sam, but Sam hooked an arm to drag Daemon back into his lap.

"Aren, dear. How's your conjuration? Has it gotten any better?"

"Of course. It has been thirty years since you were last pestering me, Sanguine. Is harassing my apprentices not enough for you anymore? Here to bother an old man?"

Sam laughed. "Old? If I went by your years, every single one of you mortals would be forever out of my reach." He pinched Daemon's cheek, for whatever added effect the Daedra desired.

Daemon glared at him.

"Aren. I need a favor from you…"

"A favor? After this stunt you just pulled in my own tower? Pah."

"Aren, darling." Sam was batting his damned eyelashes and looking rather pathetic. Daemon would have much rather the Daedra didn't do such a thing with his cock still up Daemon's ass. "My friend here needs to finish up some work here, and he obviously doesn't have a magical aptitude…"

"So, you want me to give him a place to stay?"

"I own a tent," complained Daemon, trying once more to pull himself free. He earned a stereo moan from both Sam and the Archmage as he shifted. "I just need passage in and…out." he finished, pushing against the clingy Daedra. He managed to pull free, though that didn't stop Sam from tugging him back into a tight, double-armed hug around his waist. His glare deepened.

"Might I ask, what your purpose is here? It wasn't just Sanguine who tripped a few of my sensor crystals on the way up here. You have been touched by Oblivion."

Sam clamped one hand on Daemon's shoulder, then rubbed Daemon's stomach. "He's my Vice of Lust."

The Archmage didn't seem phased. If anything, understanding. It was as if Sam's words suddenly explained everything. "My condolences," he said to Daemon. "I lasted about a week being his Vice of Pride in my youth. The… benefits don't always outweigh the trouble."

"My condolences," replied Daemon in kind. "I've been sent by Mara, though it's more in personal interest than of a holy mission."

"And, Sanguine is helping you?” An odd smile stretched across the Archmage’s face. He seemed particularly tickled by the concept. “Very well, passage will be easy enough to grant. I can claim you are on a rather discrete quest for me. Are you sure you don't need a place to stay? Having a roof over your head in this weather, I find, is a bit preferable to a tent."

"I'm-"

"No!" interrupted Sam. "I didn't work this hard for you to sleep in a tent."

"Work?" Daemon just about snorted. He turned his attention back to the Archmage. "Passage is fine enough."

"If you are certain. However, there is the matter of the disruption of the peace..." The Archmage steepled his fingers together, looking more at Sam than Daemon. 

"Aw, he didn-" Sam tousled Daemon's hair, messing it further from what their exertions had. 

"I was talking about you, Sanguine."

"Me? Aren, I'm a Prince. There's nothing you can do to punish-" Sanguine's words stopped. His eyes widened to something Daemon couldn't see. 

Daemon took the opportunity to grab his pants and pull them back on. 

"I'm still mimicking you, Aren… You wouldn't…"

"I've gotten a bit better with magic, Sanguine. I can force you out of that shape. Should I want to."

"Would you mind if I…?" Daemon had finished dressing and had gathered up most of his things. He was now pointing to elsewhere, seeking permission to leave now that it appeared his dealings had concluded.

"Not at all. I'll be out in a bit to draw up the paperwork you'll need. You can explore the rest of the floor if you wish. No one else will be coming up."

Daemon nodded and started down the curving path.

"Babe. You can't leave. We could be having so much fun right now."

Daemon caught the look from the Archmage. It wasn't an open invitation to stay, but it wasn't one saying no. 

However, the thing in his belly didn't stir. His needs had already been met earlier. With Sam. Alone with Sam. 

He couldn't stop Sam from sleeping with others, nor would he - knowing the Daedra's nature - but he could make sure their time together was just that. Just the two of them.

"Have fun," Daemon said as he left the area.


End file.
